I have a coworker with whom I speak quite candidly. The other day he entered my office and said, “When you have a minute I need to tell you about a dream I had. I’ve been taking this stuff to help me sleep and, well,” he said while walking nervously around my office, then added, “it involves you and That’s Not Chinese.” “Let me guess. We had a threeway?” I responded. He shut the door and I immediately knew I was on to something.
“Not really a threeway. You and I were getting it on,” he started with his story. “That was a Debbie Gibson moment for you – only in your dreams,” I interrupted. “I know, I know. Anyway, That’s Not Chinese walked in on us and was pregnant and really upset. Apparently we were married,” he said. “You and I?” I asked. “No, me and That’s Not Chinese, but later I found out she was married to someone else,” he replied. “That’s a dick move – cheating on your pregnant wife – even if you later find out she is married to someone else. You probably owe her an apology. While you’re at it, apologize to me too. Dick,” I stated.
A few minutes later he returned to my office, looked around as if others were in there and might hear, and said, “I woke up feeling really bad for coming between the two of you. She was really mad at you.” “It was a dream and, clearly, in the dream you didn’t really ‘come’ between the two of us. That’s Not Chinese doesn’t get really mad at me. Confirmation, again, that it was just a dream. Regardless, you owe her an apology.”
I followed up our conversation with an email to him. The content was simple:
Flight of the Conchords elevator apology