Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Houston, We Have A Problem

Just call me Jamie "The Predicament" Duncan. This name partially spawns from my favorite reality tv show of all time (Jersey Shore for those of you who currently live under a rock) and the fact that no matter what I do, I always find myself in sticky situations. Granted, 99% of the time I land myself in these particular situations, there is a small percentage of times when problems find me.

The specific predicament I find myself in tonight deals with several other people with whom I work with (additional added stress). There happens to be a man (who is married with offspring) and another girl that often take flirting to the next level. We will call this married man "David" and the other woman will be known as "Rose". And to further clarify: No ladies and gentlemen, I am not the other woman in this scenario (for once). Just kidding sheesh!

Well, like I was saying earlier, David is married with two beautiful little girls. Did I also mention that David is quite the looker? It comes as no surprise that all the girls at work practically swoon over him. But I know people that would say Boone doesn't have much to offer in the male department, and hey, I will agree with you there. To a degree.

Anyway, back to the point. So David and Rose have always had a flirty kind of relationship (come to think of it, Rose has a flirty relationship with everyone). I don't say this in a mean way, because Rose and I are actually pretty good friends. However, recently the innocent flirting has gone over the top. The two lovebirds often meet each other at work and exchange devious smiles with hidden meanings that lie beneath. The list could go on and on, but you get the picture: this is something that shouldn't be taken lightly due to the fact that David is responsible to a wife and children at home.

Leave it to me to let my imagination get the best of me. I began to create scenarios in my head where David and Rose actually cross that imaginary line and enter into "Cheatville". I thought, "What would I do if I found out this vital information?" Would I tell David's wife (who is a regular in the workplace)? Would I confront either of the two parties involved? Would I simply act as if I had no idea what was going on?
This led me to the notion that I would simply have to leave an anonymous letter for David's wife. If I told her outright that would make a hostile work environment for me, and not to mention I would lose some friends in the process. I could theoretically confront the two, but that serves no justice because David's wife would never find out. And I could not simply act as if I had no clue.

An anonymous letter is the only option. Reaching this conclusion was no feat: I had wise mentors who once had to do the same thing. Recall on Season 2 of the Jersey Shore, Snooki and Jenni faced the same ordeal I am going through. They had a civic duty to let Sammi know what was going on behind her back: and what better way to do that than an anonymous letter?
Although this task eventually blew up in their faces, I would be more clandestine about it. I probably have a wider vocabulary than the two combined, so I know I could convey a message that would really get through to David's wife. And although this "incident" hasn't occurred (yet), there is a huge possibility that it might. And in that event, I will be prepared.

Good thing I come off as a dimwit to everyone right? That way they have no idea the true intellect that lies beneath. Perfect plan. Should we applaud the girls from Jersey Shore for shedding light on this particular method of tattling? Or should we condone myself for looking for a reality tv program for any type of answer to the current situation (or any situation for that matter)?

You can be the judge of that. As for me, I will continue to find inspiration by channel surfing. There is a new season of Real World that begins tonight, and I have my notebook ready. I know there are infinite opportunities there. I can only hope to one day be one of the reality stars I so highly admire. A girl can dream right?

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