Emily versus Emily, Point/Counterpoint
With the success of our first Point/Counterpoint it behooved us to upgrade the Point/Counterpoint from just a one off feature, to full fledged weekly feature! Every Thursday expect to read the lyrical jousting from two RooftopComedy employees, one providing a point, and the other a counterpoint. It’s poetic. This week, we’re kicking things off with a duel between our two Emilys.
PS: It involves feet.
Stop Trying to Play Footsie with me at the Meetings
By Emily S.
Look… I really like you, in a platonic sort of way. So I was a little freaked out about the footsie incident in the conference room last week. As your foot crept up my leg I figured you were just looking for a place to rest your barking dogs, but after a somewhat lengthy period of your soft socks inching up my pant leg I started to feel a little uncomfortable. And its not just because you were wearing your mom’s socks that you stole on your last visit home. I mean, we already share the same name, is it not enough? Now we have to share my left leg too?
I’ve been more than happy to show you the ropes around here, and I hope I’m not giving you the wrong impression. I know we make eye contact more frequently than most people, but its because your desk is right next to mine and from the angle that I’m sitting at your face is right next to the monitor. Sometimes I get tired of looking at the screen, and your head is pretty appealing. More appealing than your feet which are often liberated from your royal blue Reeboks. So please, I don’t want things to get weird between us, I just want to go back to the way things were before that production meeting last Friday. I’m flattered, really I am, but there are some lines we just can’t cross in the workplace.
Stop Wearing Such Erotic Shoes
By Emily H.
First of all, I thought it was the leg of the table when I started, and I think you did too, and if you didn’t have a problem with that then I’m not sure what the big deal is.
Second of all, I think you know that Vans are not appropriate work attire and today you learned why. How do you expect me to concentrate with that little bundle of canvas and laces dangling down there? But I can’t climb under there and touch it with my elbow like I want to, so I compromised and touched it with my own foot. Now it’s time for YOU to compromise and stop being such a baby, baby. Let me rub your foot.
There is a time and a place for complaining and it’s after work, on your own time, in your therapist’s office. This is not productive. It’s screwing up the workflow, and what we do here is too important. There are fart jokes going unpublished because of your stupid hangups. Get over it.