On Secretly Dating Your Employee
I think we’ve all been there. I am confident that, with a few saintly exceptions, we have all at some point in our lives “known better”, but done it anyway. If your friend came to you seeking advice in a similar situation, you would tell them to turn and run the other way; resist the dark temptation, it won’t be worth it. Logic and morality and virtue tell us that it is the wrong choice. Every once in a while, though, desire outweighs everything else.
Ask Eve, the poor thing. Or Pandora, punished eternally from one moment of weakness. I myself have also had experience with this temptress called desire. It was 2017 and I was managing one office of an expensive tutoring company in the posh community of Mill Valley, CA. A team of five of us, two other managers and the owners of the company, were interviewing candidates for tutoring positions. We were a tight-knit group, professional yet laid back and able to joke around. Above all else, we all cared deeply about our students and the success of the company. I was the youngest and newest to the company, having been hired right out of college three years prior.
The interviewing process was always a long and trying one, and while we had certainly seen great potential, we’d also come across some less than savory characters. Just earlier that day a man resembling the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz had come in wearing a flamboyant gold suit. He told us that he planned to take on the position with us in addition to his current full-time job. Someone asked how exactly he planned to maintain an 80 hour work week.
His tone was arrogant and nonchalant when he responded, “I’ve actually trained my body to only require two hours of sleep on average per night.”
His “expertise” was in high school math, and he told us he’d be comfortable tutoring all levels, so we asked whether he would be open to leading our AP Calculus study groups.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I should have specified. I am comfortable with all REAL types of math. Calculus is not real math.”
After 20 more painful minutes of ridiculous claims, we were finally able to conclude the “interview”. Luckily, the next candidate had a strong resume. He’d recently completed his MA in Chemical Engineering, could tutor literally any subject under the sun, had earned top AP and SAT scores, and had previous experience as a college TA. The guy was our ideal applicant, a quintessential nerd. The owner went to get him from the lobby, and, as they entered the doorway to the interview room, I felt my cheeks get hot. This quintessential nerd was Prince Charming.
He was tall and lean with dark hair and a closely shaved beard. He had deep, dark brown almond-shaped eyes and a low voice. He took command of the room in his striped button-up shirt, loafers and pressed khaki slacks, making terms like “colorimetric biosensor” and “amphenicol residues” sound sexy. This was very bad, indeed.
After the interview there was no need to discuss whether or not we would hire him. What did take me by surprise, however, was what the owner said aloud to the room immediately after the candidate had left.
“Madison, you know you can’t date him.”
“What!?”
“Oh, come. You’re STILL blushing. You had that dopey grin on your face the whole time!”
Everyone laughed. Let the roast begin. But beneath the jokes and stabs I heard the message loud and clear. I went back to my desk to pout and didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the day.
By the following day, the owner had promised not to put him in my office and so I put the matter out of mind. That summer I had planned my very first solo trip to Europe and I was on Cloud Nine. I spent the first week in Denmark, taking in the gorgeous architecture and huegle lifestyle, while learning to avoid the local food at all cost. On the flight from Copenhagen to Rome I met a dashing middle-aged Danish man whose uncanny resemblance to Jaime Lannister was all the bait I needed. We exchanged numbers, met up for a romantic dinner once, and I spent the rest of my days wandering Cobblestone roads, indulging in bruschetta and Limoncello. Handsome Italian beaus made passes from quaint storefronts, making me blush. “Bella, bella, un fiore per te!” Life had never been sweeter. Vatican City, the Colosseum, Prosecco, Trevi Fountain, Trastevere, Prosecco… But, as with any vacation, all too soon it was time to return to the real world
Somehow, back in the real world, Prince Charming had in fact ended up in my office. Not my choice, mind you. Soon enough the school year started and the phone lines were jammed with frantic calls from helicopter moms, but I still somehow managed to find myself distracted. The new tutor- here on out known as KB- was even better once you actually got to know him, and the temptation to flirt was almost more than my lovestruck 25 year-old self could bear.
Eventually, in late October, came the fateful night that I went out for drinks with the tutors from my office and my strength subsided. The laughter, music and wine had me feeling confident. Once nearly everyone had gone home, the end of the night somehow found KB and I gazing into each others’ eyes and sharing the kiss I’d been dreaming of since the day he walked into that interview room. It was a true forbidden love story, a fairytale moment.
I had lived that night like there was no tomorrow, but, sure enough, tomorrow came. And tomorrow I paid the price. My conscience has always been both my most admirable quality and my greatest weakness. It keeps me honest. Very, very honest. Like, “chop down a cherry tree and then immediately admit to it” type of honest. I was in a pickle because I adored my job and respected my bosses but this time my heart had won. I clearly couldn’t get over KB but I couldn’t betray the trust of the owners either, so I decided that I was just going to have to be honest. Like, “make out with your employee and then tell your boss what you did” type of honest.
The confessional went about as one would expect. They scolded and I cried. I was presented with a scarlet letter and was shamed in the streets. Tar and feathers were involved. But, in the end, with the help and persuasion of my fellow managers who supported me through thick and thin, my employers kept me and gave me a chance to show that I could make the situation work. As a side, they are all some of my best friends to this day.
KB and I didn’t tell anyone else about our relationship right away so as to keep our private life as separate as possible from work, though keeping the secret wasn’t always easy. KB had inevitably amassed a following of teenage groupies over the course of the year who obsessed over learning the details of his private life. From my desk in the front office I could hear them begging him to tell them all of his secrets. One day two 16 year-olds I had known since they were in middle school came out of a math session with KB and conspiratorially came up to my desk.
“We know KB has a girlfriend.”
I started. “What are you talking about?
“We know he’s hiding something because he keeps getting mad every time we ask him about it!”
“Yeah, because you’re annoying, nosy little teenage girls.”
“If you find anything out, you’ll tell us right?”
“Go home, girls.”
The next year I moved away to go back to grad school. I had loved my job and the people, and leaving it behind was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. But I also learned that sometimes there are things more important than a job. One of them is personal growth. One of them is the tall, lean man with the dark hair and closely shaven beard sitting next to me playing video games, four years later.
