Is Your Refrigerator Running?

I have to admit, I was a little nervous.

I had no idea what reaction to expect. What I know of Sandy I know from J. Clearly a biased opinion. I realized I do not know her at all. I can be certain of nothing. But what I had gleaned in the last few years was that whatever good, bad or indifferent things she is, she is no shrinking violet. She could tell me to mind my own business. She could lash out at the intrusion. She could tell me to go f*** myself and mean it.

I considered letting the whole thing go.

But I struggled with my conscience.

The whole situation reminded me of a time in my career when I has been investigating a harassment complaint. I’d spoken to the accused before and was about to have a second discussion – one that began with “You were instructed not to have any contact or interaction with Miss Whatshername that is not expressly required in the course of performing your job duties. So why were you seated in the passenger seat of her car last night when she left the office?”

But he’d been prepared. Since the first complaint, he’d been keeping a diary. A diary that would surely demonstrate that she was harassing him! Brilliant!

And of course, it was filled with the lunatic ramblings of an unbalanced man who was clearly unable to control his bizarre preoccupation with the chippy in the C-suite.

And of course I deftly confiscated the book under the pretense of giving it “a thorough read.”

And at the time, my labor attorney partner on the investigation was a little wishy-washy. There is nothing more annoying. I escalated it to my boss. I firmly believed Bad Ronald had to go. (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0071186/plotsummary)

And my boss, fearless to the end but deadpan in her delivery, simply told our lawyer “We’re gonna have a hard time explaining to this girl’s parents when they’ve just come from identifying her body at the morgue that we had this diary and just stuck it in a drawer.”

Touche. Bad Ronald was shown the door.

And to me, my boss said, “Nice work. It was clear that we could not do nothing.”

And now, in this situation, it was clear to me that I could not do nothing.

I reached out.

I waited for my hand to get slapped.

And was surprised to find it grasped and held. Rather warmly.

And what followed was an enlightening, reaffirming, validating interaction. Without defensiveness. Without malice. Without the need to say “I told you so.”