The Beautiful People

My boss, Lonnie, her boss, Daphne, and three of my co-workers (Kristie, Jo, and Amy) are the blonde, blue, and beautiful wolf-pack of my personal daily hell in cubicle-land.

They call themselves The Plastics, which they got from some teeny-bopper film that was in theaters a few years back. They're cliquish, snotty, and very, very shallow. They all have pictures of Jessica Simpson as the backdrops on their computers. They all gather around in the morning and discuss what happened the night before on their favorite show, American Idol, and what they saw in the latest fashion rag they thumbed through the night before (keep in mind they were talking on the phone with one another while paging through said magazine). They get together on the weekends and have "beauty parties" and sleep-overs. It's like High School all over again.

This was my work-week... Pity me?

MONDAY:

Lonnie: "Is that the newest issue of In Touch?"
Daphne: "Yes."
Lonnie: "Does it have the new look in it?"
Daphne: "Yeah."
Lonnie: "That's not a new look. I've already had that look."
Amy: "You do need a new look though."
Lonnie: "Ugh! I know. This look is so tired."
Kristie: "I like your look."
Lonnie: "That's only because you copied it."

TUESDAY:

Me: "Tim's all dressed up today. What's that about?"
Co-worker: "He's got an interview with Daphne for that Supervisory position that just opened up."
Me: "Maybe I'll put in for one here in a few months."
Co-worker: "They'll never hire you, you know. You're not blonde enough."

WEDNESDAY:

Lonnie: "Mouth! Mouth! Come here! Look!" (insert twittery giggle here)
Me: "Yeah?"
Lonnie: "Look!"
She shows me this strange tie-on plastic belt with a bright red plastic crotch, which she happens to be wearing over her dress slacks.
Me: "It looks like one of those belt-on maxi pads like our mothers had to wear, before they started gluing the back of them and giving them wings."
She looks down at her strap-on underwear, nose wrinkled.
Lonnie: "They're edible panties.
Me: "My, aren't we classy?"
I snort and walk balk to my cubby-hole.

THURSDAY:

Heading down a ridiculously slow elevator shaft after a long day...
Daphne: "So, are you coming to Happy Hour this week?"
Me: "I might."
Lonnie: "You should! We'll be there."
Me: "I'll think about it."
Like their presence alone should be reason enough to inspire desire to attend.

FRIDAY:

Lonnie: "So are you coming to Happy Hour?"
Me: "Yeah, I think I will."
Lonnie: "Daphne doesn't want to go to the deck. She doesn't like it. We're gonna go down to the Market."
Me: "Alright. I'm heading out. I'll meet you there, I guess."
I met up with in the parking lot and we drove over to the Market. Typically, the whole office goes to Happy Hour Fridays. L and I were sitting at the table, sipping a cold one each, when Lonnie and Daphne strutted in; no one else came with them. Lonnie sat down and engaged L and I, while Daphne meandered around the bar, saying hello to people and completely ignoring us. After making small talk with a few acquaintances, each getting to the end of comfortable "How's your wife? How're the kids?" conversation and eventually turning back to the bar, she came and sat with us. She turned her most winning smile on L and laughed prettily at all his jokes.
Daphne: "I'm sorry we crashed your table. Do you want us to move?"
L: "What do you mean?"
Daphne: "Well, we just sort of came and sat at your table."
Me: "No you didn't. Lonnie invited us."
Daphne's brow creased, as if she couldn't quite figure out why Lonnie would have invited us. We're not office elite. I think L lost his fashion sense somewhere in the 70's, and I never had one. We stayed for half an hour, then I elbowed L.
Me: "You ready?"
L: "Yup. It was nice to meet you, ladies."
Daphne: "Aw, you're going already?" She batted her lashes at L.
Me: "Yeah, we both have things to do. See you Monday."
L and I walked out of the lounge and into the sunshine. We both breathed a huge sigh.
L: "Ah, freedom!"
He grinned. We drove home.