Fuck'em
My first office job in England, my boss was a total bitch - but only towards me. Probably because I hate authority figures. Or maybe because I like correcting people when they're wrong, and she was wrong *a lot*.

After a year or so of her torture, she was up the duff and had recently hired her bloke (nepotism in action). Out on the chrimbo bash. She's pissed and draped over another guy from the office, one nobody likes. Five pints on an empty stomach conspire to make me think "why not?"

I sidle over to her bloke.

"I think it's very good of you to put up with her. Y'know, after..." *gestures to boss and bloke she's draped over*

"After what?"

"But, but, are you sure you want someone else's kid calling you 'daddy'?"

Our sysadmin, a charming stoner from Bristol, dragged me off to partake of some herbal relaxants back at his. Apparently, violence happened shortly after we left. Best of all, her bloke couldn't remember where he'd heard the rumour - too pissed by far - but held on to a burning resentment that lasted long after I'd quit and moved to a different city.
(DigitalRaven will have to make do with gin, Wed 13 May 2009, 19:34, Reply)