The Office Black Girl

365 Days of Posts, Office Stories, Uncategorized

When the Racism Surprises You…

February 24, 2023by The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

I wrote this on Monday and debated on whether I should post it. Then something reminded me of why I started this blog…

On Friday, I was discussing with a coworker about an upcoming work trip I had to take with my boss. I was explaining how there was really no reason for me to go. But my biggest concern was that I may have to share a room with her.

I work for a company where a good 35 percent (or more) of its employees are related or good family friends. The line of boundaries are definitely blurry on a daily basis. So I was concerned that my boss would think that my boundaries would allow her to think I would be okay sharing a room with her.

I am not.

While I may complain about my boss often, I realize it is more me and my need to complain rather than her…or so I thought.

As I was discussing with my coworker (white, male) that I didn’t want to share a room with someone who was going to ask me about why I did certain things to my hair at night or why I wore a bonnet to bed, he shared a problematic story with me.

There used to be a black male who worked in my department (long before me) and apparently he messed up something. She tells my coworker that his mess-up was “very niggerly of him.”

He claims he told her that she couldn’t say that and she proceeded to say it again.

I can’t even describe my feelings at the time though many thoughts ran through my head:

He was a little too comfortable repeating the word she used.
I was surprised, and I wasn’t
Maybe I need to reevaluate my employment here.

Here is where my lack of surprise comes in, she has said other derogatory things about people. Both times she said them to me.

Now before you look down on me from your high horse, I will admit I didn’t correct her. There are some people who you already know are a lost cause, and investing energy to correct them almost feels like a disservice to yourself. But I will understand if you disagree.

My husband was supportive of the idea of me leaving, but the reality is that I need this job. There are annoyances for sure, but I can’t ignore the fact that despite her MASSIVELY problematic flaws, my boss actually treats me well.

She doesn’t harass me when I am late. On more than one occasion, I couldn’t come to work for various reasons and she told me to just take care of myself and what I needed to do. Hell, she actually values my opinion at work and that is saying something given my past experiences.

But even as I type this, I can’t help but think about why I am sharing this. We live in such a woke time that I could see people judging me for not quitting or exposing her to Black Twitter.

The reality is, I know I am not the only black woman who has had to put up with shit to get to their final goal. My goal is to get me and my family to a better place financially and I need this job to do that. There are also connections that come with this job that I can’t deny either.

So at the end of the day, I have to admit that my vision of a life after this job outweighs the outrage I feel from a water cooler conversation.

However, we will see what the future holds…

365 Days of Posts, Mental Health Journey, Office Stories

Sometimes The Money Isn’t Enough

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It is almost 10 at night and I am sitting here trying to gather the bottom-of-the-barrel brain cells to complete a freelance job for someone. My contacts are hours past the point of needing to be taken out, and my annoyance is just tapering off.

I started doing freelance marketing work during the start of the pandemic because, like so many others, I found myself unemployed. For years, I felt fortunate to have clients to help build my portfolio and give me a steady line of work without constantly hustling for work.

But I think I have reached the point where I can no longer ignore the burnout, even if it has been screaming in my face for months.

I had a conversation today with a co-worker. We talked about work-life balance and how basically, our mental health falls behind our desire to pay bills. I find myself making that “joke” a lot: my bills don’t give a fuck about my mental health, or me mentally breaking down just to keep my credit from falling to shit.

My husband tells me to quit the freelance stuff. He has even encouraged me to invest more time into The Office Black Girl. But this online world doesn’t pay the bills. While I appreciate his belief in me, fear runs deep in my veins.

I hate to admit that I have had the chance to pursue my side hustles and projects as something full-time, but I messed up. I wasted my opportunities and, even worse, a lot of money. So I find myself here on a Thursday night, trying to find a single thread of thought to latch onto and create this content for this client before I go to bed.

Do I want to? No. Do I secretly want the client to tell me that they have found a cheaper option and “fire” me? Maybe.

Then I remember I have a credit card payment due that has yet another late fee attached to it. And I remind myself that I must keep doing the work, despite everything else overflowing on my plate.

But maybe one day I will just let it go and focus on what I find joy in…..maybe.

365 Days of Posts, Office Stories

Working & Bleeding

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Years ago, I was one of the “lucky” women with “easy” periods. With the wonderful help of birth control, I would have a period for about a day and didn’t have any crazy side effects. Well, I did get abnormally horny. That would usually be a T.M.I. portion of the story, but we are talking about periods.

But in recent years, I swear Karma is getting her lick back or something because dealing with my period is now a whole ordeal.

I have now started getting migraines that make me question my existence, followed by my whole body deciding to jump on the dumpster fire train. But what adds to the misery is having to go to work while my body betrays me. I have been looking at the same billboard design for the last hour, hoping no one notices that I have barely tapped on my keyboard.

If I didn’t know better, I would think I was sick.

Or maybe I am sick. While my bad mood may be the only contagious symptom, the rest should warrant a sick day without penalty. To be fair, I could probably ask my director to go home without any issue. But this is a reoccurring problem; unfortunately, our society is not built to give a shit about accommodating the complications of women’s menstrual cycles and work demands.

It is as if the natural occurrences of being a woman become obstacles to being a well-balanced, career woman. In 2023, we should stop treating men’s lives as the standard for workplace expectations. Because how can you win at work when only half the workforce can experience the burden of mother nature, and many of them don’t bother to understand?

Mental Health Journey, Motherhood

A Needed Phone Call

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This was not my original blog post idea for today.

But it is the blog post I want to share…today.

As a black woman, I feel this constant pressure to suck shit up and handle things. But the reality is that narrative is forced upon me as a black woman that I constantly struggle with. I struggle with the idea of dropping the ball, asking for help, and even not pushing myself harder.

While this era of social media is now showing that this is a problematic idealogy, my timeline hasn’t shown me enough women still struggling to find the right balance. It seems as though my timeline is filled with black women who are doing the damn thing (which I applaud them) and others who have managed to break through that crippling ideology and voluntarily remove things from their plates.

Then there is me, stuck somewhere in the middle.

While I struggled with the guilt of not going to the gym again today, not completing my story update (I just did before I typed this post), and not pushing myself to finish my never-ending to-do list…

That all went out the window when I got an unexpected call from my son’s teacher.

My son finished the first half of the school year, failing most of his classes. As any mom will understand, failing your kid is the biggest blow (even if the failure is an imagined one). So my husband and I bit the bullet and enrolled our son in tutoring. A cost that we feel every month. But I refuse to let my kid fail because I didn’t do all that I could to help him succeed.

I feel like I am constantly bogged down as a black mother because there seems to be no room for error. Because I am raising a black son that will eventually be a black man, any of his shortcomings fall on me and are multiplied by a skewed perception. I’m not even a single mother, and I was disgusted by the remarks of Jason Whitlock in regard to single, black mothers. Like how do you even reach to make that connection?

With that being said, my son’s teacher called me and told me that she didn’t know what we were doing at home, but my son’s grades had made a dramatic improvement since they returned from Christmas break.

While it seems like such a small thing, I found myself in tears.

It is bizarre to me that someone can fix their lips to generalize black women and black mothers under some distorted, negative narrative. I know so many amazing black women (single and married) who do so much for their kids, and they do it without praise.

To those mamas, I see you.

Today, I felt seen. I have had many conversations with my son’s teacher about his grades, and it was how she delivered the news that made me realize she saw that I was trying to do my best for my kid. And it was exactly what I needed today.

365 Days of Posts, Uncategorized

Vague, Quick Update

January 24, 2023by The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

It is 2 something in the afternoon, and I am struggling to get through this work day.

My head has been spinning for the last couple of days as I have replayed a conversation over and over in my head. I have WAAAAY too many things on my plate, and my husband asked about one of them. He asked if I was letting things fall to the back burner. And I think he was surprised when I said…

YES! DEFINITELY, YES!

He seemed taken aback by my answer and then asked me why I took on so much. In a reasonable, ideal world….it is a valid question. But I had to inform him that I am trying to dig myself out of debt, work a full-time job, have a side hustle (that I hope turns to a full-time job), a passion project (that I hope turns to a side hustle), be a halfway okay mom and wife (because I am too tired to be superwife/mom), and somehow get to the gym so I can lose a hundred pounds.

Everything is spilling off of my plate. The only thing that is pushing me forward is coffee and delusion. However, there is something whispering in the back of my mind that I am finally on my way to making big things happen for myself; I just have to keep all of this shit on my plate in the meantime.

As I search for my next cup of coffee, I hope you will take the time to indulge in the latest chapter of my passion project: The Ebony Alpha. You can find it on Wattpad and the Dreame app.

Uncategorized

Office Black Girl Moments: Gifting Games

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It is a true skill to convince people that your backward way of thinking is acceptable. Yesterday, I got to witness this skill at my own expense.

I have read stories of servers having their tips taken by owners of restaurants. While that is a terrible practice, I was surprised to find myself in a similar situation working in an office setting.

At the beginning of the holiday season, my coworker informed me that if I received a gift as a worker for the company, I was supposed to turn it over to the owner. I didn’t think much of it because I had just started working for the company and didn’t think anyone would be gifting me anything.

But I did find the thought process behind it ridiculous. I was told that I was receiving that gift because I work for the company, and it is only because of my connection to the boss that I am getting that gift.

In an “I’m too lazy to argue back” kind of way, I could see how people would accept this control freak logic. I mean, it is true the person sending me this gift would not have likely crossed my path if not for this job. However, I find it problematic that that seems to be a justification to claim a gift that was not intended for you.

While I may have received my little gift card because I work at the company, it is one less gift card that this company would have received if someone was not working in my position. It wasn’t as if I received the gift without doing any work. I sat in meetings with this person and had multiple interactions with them just to reach a mutual agreement over a proposal.

So it baffles me that a business owner would think it was a good idea to undermine a positive interaction between their employee and a sales rep by claiming their Christmas gift.

But here is the kicker? In the middle of typing this post, I was in a bit of a mood when the owner swung by my desk. Because he was sorting through the gifts and I thought how crazy it was that a wealthy man would withhold a measly gift card from his employees (and a few other gifts from others). I texted my husband about my feelings at the moment, and 5 seconds later, the gift card was dropped off on my desk.

Caesar (that is what they call him for this gift-taking practice) dropped the card off and proceeded to tell me how he usually holds on to this stuff but not this one. I told my husband, and he said that Caesar probably felt my energy. I wonder if he thought the Office Black Girl would be the one to call him out on this shit practice.

Who knows. But now I am one $25 gift card richer and one more blog post closer to being a consistent writer.

Until the next time (which will be soon due to the amount of material I just got today)…

Uncategorized

Crossing the Line

December 21, 2022by The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

I remember years ago trying to be a blogger/vlogger. Times were different. I was different. Like so many kids today, I overshared and had an unfiltered approach to being a content creator. Well, maybe there was some filter. Because when I reflect back on my early 20s, I had some sense not to share every foolish decision I made.

But creating content is so much easier when there is no line to worry about. The line is what I struggle with constantly. I find myself being served with a great idea, but I wonder what would happen if this blog suddenly blew up (laughable now….but it could happen)? What would be the end result?

I am a black woman in an almost all-white company. While I grew up in a predominately white environment, I don’t know if I have ever been faced with so many conversations pertaining to race in the workspace. I share stories with my friends, and the question always lingers: are these moments blatantly racist, or are these white people who don’t have enough exposure to black people to know better.

Don’t get me wrong, my fingers itch to post every time race is brought up at work, but it is a struggle because I know these people and, for the most part, genuinely like most of them. However, I feel like the line stops me. A line that I don’t know how far over I am willing to cross just yet.

Most black people have put up with their share of foolishness at the office. But in this age of social media and the climate of racial discussions, I wonder if black people would be my greatest obstacle in sharing my story as I continue to stay the office black girl beyond the keyboard.

Only time will tell….

365 Days of Posts, Office Stories, The Ebony Alpha

Let’s Try This Again

Featuredby The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

This weekend, I wrote about posting every day, and the second day I already failed.

In my defense, I did start to post but was distracted. In the past, I would have easily thrown the whole idea away; I refuse to do that again now. The whole purpose of this “experiment” is to push myself and see where I will be at the end of it.

It is Monday, and I am already drowning in a to-do list that I can never complete. But my goal this week is to complete a couple of chapters for The Ebony Alpha and to organize my life a bit to get 2023 off to a smoother, more productive start.

There are also a couple of office stories I plan to share this week, but I am working on giving them a proper delivery.

Until tomorrow….

365 Days of Posts, Office Stories

Office Black Girl Moments: Vol. 1

Featuredby The Office Black Girl1 Comment

When I started this blog a few years ago, I intended to talk about my experiences as the only black woman in my department. If you know, you know.

But it was also for those who didn’t know. Being a black woman in the corporate world, especially the only woman of color in a department or even a whole company, is an experience, to say the least.

However, since the creation of this blog, I have since been laid off from that job, and I have found myself in several other work environments where the color of my skin has provoked awkward conversations. While I plan to share those stories here, I decided to mark this point as my day of change.

I recently saw a TikToker post about their one-year anniversary since they decided to start posting every day and how their life changed since then. And it made me think about how different my life might be if I had been consistent in the projects I pursued (and enjoyed) or if I didn’t just prioritize things to help dig myself out of debt.

So today is day one of me posting every day and seeing where my life will be in a year. I won’t lie, the content will probably be random, but I feel like that is appropriate. The black woman in your office has more going on than what you see every day, so here is a sneak peek into my thoughts, life, and the awkward moments of being The Office Black Girl

The Ebony Alpha

When a Friend Says There Needs to Be “More”

July 27, 2022by The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

I let a friend of mine read the first two chapters of The Ebony Alpha last night. She has encouraged me for years to dive into my creative side. But for some reason, I always found an excuse not to pursue things.

Despite her years of encouragement, I honestly felt nervous for her to read it. I kept visualizing the ruthless comments on a story I had recently read. While there may have been some validity to their remarks, I just kept thinking how much I would cringe if those remarks were directed toward my work.

But she stated she liked what I had so far and her only comment was that I should add “more” to a particular moment in chapter 2. I was amused because I had intentionally held back.

As I finish up chapter 3, I have decided to put the original chapter 2 here before I rework it on Wattpad and Dreame. I look forward to seeing what you think and if you agree that the chapter needed “more” and where you think the more should be. The update will be available on Wattpad and Dreame by tomorrow at the latest.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2: Darren’s View

I found myself in the conference room pacing. The room felt uncomfortably hot, and I was struggling to breathe. I loosened my tie and tossed it on the ground as I tried to find a way to get more air.

But even that didn’t help. I put my hands down, bracing myself against the large conference table. As a million thoughts were racing through my head, I didn’t hear anyone enter the room.

Soon I could feel her arms around me, and I already knew. If people could see into the conference room, they would think it was just someone trying to comfort another in distress. While inappropriate for the workspace, it may still have looked innocent.

Fortunately, no windows were looking into the conference room inside the office because this was not an embrace of comfort. At least not the kind that could be excused in the office.

“So, is she fired?” Ragen asked as one of her hands slid down the front of my pants. I know I should have stopped it, but I couldn’t. I was weak.

I didn’t respond.

“I asked you a question. Is she fired?” Ragen’s voice could no longer be mistaken as kind. The words dripped like honey that you knew was laced with poison. Before I could respond, she moved her hands from outside my pants and into my boxers with unexpected quickness.

I couldn’t fight the groan that escaped as she grabbed my dick.

Fuck!

I wanted to tell her to let go. To rip her hand away, but my body betrayed me as she gently massaged me into a hardness I couldn’t control.

“I am going to ask you one more fucking time. Is Laila fired?” Ragen asked as she began to grip my dick painfully.

I quickly woke up from my mental weakness as I started falling to the floor under her grip. Ragen stood over me as I lay on the floor, trying to recover from the pain.

Darkness had consumed Ragen’s face as she looked down at me. I must admit that I was a little turned on and scared.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

She lifted her skirt just as she started to kneel. I caught a glimpse of delicate lace covering the space between her legs. During my distraction, Ragen placed her hands around my throat.

I was in shock, even though I knew I shouldn’t be. Ragen had always seemed unnaturally strong for a woman. I was a pretty big guy, but her ability to dominate me always surprised and excited me….well, until now.

I could feel myself getting light-headed under her grip, and while I tried to push her off me, she didn’t seem bothered by my attempts to move her.

She leaned in close. Her lips were so close to my face that I could taste her breath, and it was intoxicating. It always smelled like something I couldn’t identify, but it never failed to make my mind and body turn against each other.

“Sh-She is wi-w-with Mi-Michelle.” I gasped underneath her grip.

A smile soon replaced the evil look on Ragen’s face, and she let go of my throat. As I tried to breathe the air finally allowed into my lungs, Ragen crashed her lips into mine.

Whatever tension was in my body was released the moment she kissed me. I didn’t love Ragen. In fact, there were times that I genuinely hated her existence. But there was no denying that she knew how to get what she wanted from a man.

I could feel her hands reaching down into my pants again, and I flinched a little, thinking about what had just happened. She released me from the kiss and looked down at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you not want me to touch you now?” Ragen asked with her falsely sweet tone.

I didn’t answer. My mind was spinning from the extremity of her emotions. Before I could gather my thoughts, Ragen stood up with her feet planted on the outside of my useless legs. She towered over me, and I looked as she started to pull down the lacy underwear around her long legs. She stepped one leg out of the lace and let it fall around the black stiletto beside me.

“Take them off,” she said in a low voice.

Without thinking, I immediately lifted the leg out of the pooled red lace around her shoes. My mindless actions continued as I lifted the panties to my nose to inhale her scent.

“Stand up.”

I rose to my feet and stood face to face with her. She really was beautiful. Her lips were full and covered in a glossy red. And her eyes were usually green, but when I looked down into them, they were a dark blue.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, then you can touch me. Because baby, I want to celebrate.” Ragen’s lips held a smile that didn’t quite reach the dark blue hues of her eyes.

Still mesmerized by the new color of her eyes, Ragen grabbed my hand and rubbed it between the soft folds between her legs. I closed my eyes and let out a small groan as she slid two of my fingers into her wet pussy.

When I opened my eyes, she stared back at me with a hungry expression. She leaned into me as my fingers continued to pump in and out of her. Wetness dripped all over my hand. I could feel massive discomfort in my pants as my dick fought to be released.

Ragen brushed her hands against the outline of my print. She locked eyes with me before pulling my fingers out of her and holding them up between us. Without missing a beat, she closed her mouth around my fingers, and my dick jumped.

“Hmmmm, I think you should taste this,” she says as she pulls my fingers out of her mouth, never breaking eye contact. I think she is about to push my fingers into my mouth when she suddenly pushes me onto the conference table.

I am stunned as she quickly crawls on top of me and passes the hardness in my pants. She pushes me down and is soon straddling my face.

“Eat,” she demands.

I eagerly respond. And just like her breath, her wetness is equally intoxicating. I was so lost in her taste that I didn’t realize she had already undone my pants and was now stroking my member.

Before she could cum, I shifted her down and sat her against my hard-on. She doesn’t wait long before climbing on top of me and sliding down my dick easily. She rides the hell out of me like a cowgirl before I explode inside her.

I am completely drained. When I finally have enough energy to look up, Ragen is already off the table, wiping off her thighs with my tie. She shimmies her red lace panties on and tosses my tie at me with a smirk on her face. Then she leaves without saying a word.

She is the devil. I know it.