My father just referred to Nicole Kennedy as my girlfriend. In front of an entire room of my colleagues. If I could just control the muscles of my face, this would be fine, because my dad makes these kinds of inappropriate jokes about most women.
But she doesn’t know this, and we never bring clients up to the offices, so the whole thing just throws me so hard, I just stand there with my mouth hanging open while Nicole glares at my father.
“Mr. Brady,” she says. “Mick, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
He winks at her. “I know how it is,” he says. “You’re saving yourself for my brother.”
“Jesus Christ, Dad.” I feel myself blushing. I vow to leave the company and go work somewhere else, somewhere the management controls their impulses and gives employees promotions without sending t
