How I Ended Up Listening To My Coworker Have Phone Sex

(as told to Veronica Wells) 

After far too many years in my college town, having learned all that I needed to from the people and predicaments there, I moved back to my home town to start my dream company. But before that I had to get a job, you know, to eat. After a about month of searching, I found a lovely job at a sales company. Not only was I drawn to the position because they were going to pay me, I took the fact that there were several women in managerial roles as a good sign.

And it was…mostly. But we all know that just because someone shares your gender and even your race, it does not automatically make them “your type of person.” Zora Neale Hurston said it best, “All my skinfolk ain’t my kinfolk.”

I discovered this lesson all over again when, after just two weeks on the job, I learned that I would be working closely with a woman who had been with the company for nearly a decade. And though you might assume she would know the ends and outs of the business, my manager told me that since she was new to our department, I would be training her.

Uhh…I’d just left a job where I exhausted myself training others. And I really didn’t move to another region of the country for round two.

But again, after relocation expenses, I was in no position to tell someone what I wouldn’t do. So here I was training Ashley*, a Black woman in her early forties, who liked to talk, ad nauseum, about wigs and handbags. I appreciate a good wig as much as the next lazy naturalista with a corporate gig, but I do not want to spend my days talking about such things. And this would have been bearable if my manager had not called me into her office just two weeks after I started working to drop a bomb.

“Nicole*, we’re having our annual conference in New Mexico next week and we’d love for you to come along and get a better feel for the way we do things around here.” 

Oooowwww! An all expense paid trip to New Mexico, at the onset of winter in a midwestern city, seemed too good to be true.

It was.

“You and Ashley will travel ahead of management and we’ll see you guys two days later. Does that sound like a plan?” 

I wanted to scream nooooo into the never-ending, expanding space that suddenly appeared between her desk and my face. Traveling with Ashley did not sound like any plan I wanted to be a part of.

Instead, I shook my head and managed a weak smile.

By the time I moped back to my desk, Ashley was waiting for me… in my cubicle.

“Did you hear girl? We’re going to New Mexico! I’m so excited! You know, I’ve never been on a plane before?” 

I flashed her that same weak smile I’d given my manager a few minutes earlier.

I spent the next couple of days leading up to Christmas, lying in my bed, with a bout of anxiety…but also relishing the last moments of peaceful solitude.

Here’s the thing about me: I can be quite social; but for the most part, I’m a loner. I’m a nice person–whatever that means–but I’m not one for hugs, meaningless small talk and forced friendships. So the idea of spending a week in the desert with a woman who had already worked my nerves, seemed like torture.

And despite the reassurance from my friends and family that I was overreacting, that’s exactly what it was.

But in an effort to be fair, I warned Ashley about myself. I told her I don’t really like to be touched and I generally like to be left alone after a certain point. She told me she understood.

Day 1

Our journey began, like many modern journeys do, on the plane. We both boarded and I settled into my seat. We weren’t seated together and by some good fortune, I had a whole aisle to myself. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for four hours of relatively comfortable airplane sleep.

I must have sensed some imminent doom because I opened my eyes to see Ashley’s unnaturally shiny wig bobbing toward me. She informed me that she saw I was sitting alone and asked the stewardess if she could trade seats.

Hours later, we landed and made it to our hotel. I walked up to the desk and gave the the receptionist my name.

“Oh, okay Nicole. I have you right here. Looks like you’re in a room by yourself.” 

I felt my body begin to relax at the thought of a hotel room with cable, internet and room service all to myself.

Ashley, who had been taking in our surroundings this whole time, suddenly threw her hand up in protest.

“No! We’re supposed to be together.” 

I opened my mouth to object but I remembered the words of my mother, telling me to make the best of this opportunity and stay positive. And even though I had lived by myself throughout most of my college career and the four years after that, I decided having a roommate wouldn’t be that bad.

We walked into our hotel room and I made a bee line for the bed next to the balcony window. (I have a fear of sleeping next to the door.) Before I had even managed to put all of my belongings away, Ashley walks over to my side of the room with a confession.

“I have to tell you something. I’m a secret smoker.” 

Well, that certainly explained her darkened lips. Still, I didn’t think it would be a problem until she walked right out onto the balcony right next to my bed and proceeded to smoke the first of many Newports.

Day 2

The next day, I opened my eyes to Ashley’s back, smoke billowing to the side of her as she enjoyed another secret cigarette. I looked at my phone. 5:30 a.m. We were supposed to be downstairs for breakfast by 8, so I decided to get in the shower. By the time I was out, Ashley was still lolly gagging around the room, talking on the phone, watching television. Anything and everything but getting ready. I watched the clock. Finally, she got in the shower at 7:30. But before she did so, she told me to wait for her so we could go down to eat breakfast together. Trying to be nice, I did wait. And by the time she was finished, we’d missed breakfast.

After a day full of conference events, I listened to Ashley argue with her 70-year-old boyfriend, whom she would only call by his first initial: “D,”  for 20 minutes about whether or not he should clean the carpet by himself or if he should wait for her to get back into town so they could do it together.

If the conversation were more interesting, I would have snooped but since it wasn’t, I turned my back to her and watched Plies videos on my computer.

It wasn’t long before, out of nowhere, I felt the bed sink and someone up against my back. I turned to see Ashley on my bed, leaning eagerly and dangerously close to my face.

“So girl, what do you think about him?” 

“Ashley…you’re touching me right now and you know how I feel about that.” 

“I thought about that…but not until after I landed.” 

At least she thought about it.

Even though Ashley had failed to respect my boundaries, I still tried to offer some type of advice.

“Do you ever think maybe you might talk too much?” 

Later that day we had a meeting for the new sales reps. And I struck up a conversation with our product manager, Brenton.* And being new to the company, I was asking him questions.

When we got back to our room, Ashley, with genuine concern in her eyes, sat on her bed and said:

“I feel like I bore you.” 

I thought to myself did  I unknowingly enter into a lesbian relationship within the past two days?

She continued: “When you talk to other people you seem invested and engaged. But not with me. I think because I don’t talk about techy/smart stuff .”

She was both right and wrong. I was more interested and engaged talking to other people. But it wasn’t because we were talking about techy/smart stuff. Just that morning, in an effort to speak to someone who didn’t irritate the hell out of me, I had a rather pleasant conversation with the cleaning lady.

I told her, “Ashley, I was watching Plies videos earlier today. I’m not an elitist.” 

She nodded solemnly before revealing yet another one of her secrets.

“Don’t get mad but I was thinking about hooking you up with Brenton. You all seem to really bounce ideas well off of each other.” 

When I looked back at her with a deadpan face, she added: “…but I don’t know if you’re into White guys.” 

I reminded her of the conversation we’d had the night before where I told her that no, I wasn’t particularly into White guys and that I would never date a coworker.

That night, as I was on my computer typing, Ashley told me that she felt like I was studying behind her back. I assured her I wasn’t.

Then, in one of our last conversations before we went to bed she told me, in a manner that can only be described as ‘single, Black, female” “I watch you more than you know…because you help me.” 

Day 3

Early in the day I’d met with some other leaders in our company and discussed ways in which we could make the company better, particularly for new employees.

I realized that the materials we were currently using were outdated. So during one of our seminars, I took a template and started making a mock up training document. I saw Ashley look over my shoulder at my computer screen, but she was always hovering so I didn’t think too much of it.

Then our manager, who had just arrived in New Mexico, showed up. And one of the first things out of Ashley’s mouth was “I was thinking about developing new training materials.” 

Of course my manger thought it was a great idea.

I agreed, my great idea.

I was officially done.

We had a half day. And after noon, we were free to explore. As luck would have it, I started my period and wasn’t feeling all that great. I thought that I would head back to the room and rest and also get some much needed alone time.

I thought wrong.

Even though Ashley had signed up to take a tour of the local museums, once I told her that I was heading back to the room because I didn’t feel well and wanted to be left alone, she assumed that that was the perfect time for her to tag-a-long.

Ashley sat at the desk, directly in front of the end of my bed and pretended to send e-mails.

I woke up from my nap to the light still blaring in my face and the scent of Kim Kardashian body spray, mixed with Newports. Our room officially smelled like a strip club.

When she noticed that I was up, Ashley made a big production of leaving the room. By now, I knew not to get too hopeful. And sure enough, ten minutes later Ashley came back into the room with two cheap wine bottles from the nearby gas station.

“I thought we could have a girl’s night in!” 

Why Ashley thought I would drink this wine after I had been telling her every night at dinner that I didn’t drink the stuff, was beyond me. It was then that it clicked, not only was Ashley rather annoying and underhanded in the way she stole my idea, she was rather inconsiderate and just didn’t listen well.

I looked at her, took two sleeping pills and climbed into bed.

I was awakened a couple of hours later to loud cackling and then giggling. The light at the end of my bed was still on, glaring in my face. I went to the restroom and then returned to my bed, making sure to switch the light off.

Ashley walked out onto the balcony to talk, presumably about me. When she came back into the room, she turned the light back on and moved the room’s ironing board over to my side of the room. She ironed some outfit she’d packed for a night out.

Day 4

The next morning I woke up at 4:30, showered, dressed and just as Ashley was waking up to say good morning, I walked out of the room to get breakfast. This time she managed to make it downstairs in time. She sat down with our mangers and brought up training materials…again.

My face must have read disgusted because in front of everyone, Ashley asked, “What’s wrong Nicole? Is it me?” 

I shot her dagger of a look and said, through clenched teeth, “This is neither the time nor place to have this discussion.” 

“Well I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me what it is.” 

Later that day, after all of our seminars were over, I headed over to the hotel’s gift shop to pick up a couple of souvenirs for my family. I felt Ashley’s presence behind me.

“I need you to verbalize what’s wrong.” 

“I did tell you. I wanted to be left alone because I wasn’t feeling well. But you left the light on at the end of my bed for 8 hours and were talking loudly on the phone. You disturbed my sleep.” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I did it to be spiteful. I’ll leave you alone from here on out.” 

Even with just a day left of our trip, I was grateful. But not for long. Ashley decided that it would be a good idea for us to shop together.

In the gift shop, it occurred to me after eight years of living by myself, I had not been more than 3 feet away from Ashley for the past four days.

That night, after all of our work activities were over, Ashley told me that she was headed back downstairs for the mixer the company was having. But when she saw that I got in bed to rest, she also changed into some leggings and her headscarf.

And while Ashley didn’t talk to me, she did call “D.”

They weren’t arguing this time around. But the conversation still took an unwanted turn.

As she crawled into her own bed, Ashley smiled coyly before saying flirtatiously, “You know what I want to see, Daddy. You think you can handle me?” 

I fought with my gag reflex as she spent the rest of the night, her head under the covers talking, giggling and flirting with her geriatric boyfriend.

I turned my back to her for what seemed like the umpteenth time, popped another sleeping pill and waited for it to take effect.

*All names changed.