Mistaken Identity

She sits at her desk, passing the time thumbing through her OK! Magazine, when she cries out in her involuntary Brooklyn-ese, "Oh. Moi. Gawd. You look exactly like Jake Gyllenhaal! Has anyone ever told you that before?"

I sit at my screen staring at Excel and check to see if my ears are bleeding, "No. I've never heard that before. You really think so?" [Do you think I was sarcastic?]

She then cuts out multiple pictures of the celebrity and affixes them to the outside of my otherwise barren cube. To each person that walks by, she makes it a point to illustrate the "striking resemblance." I keenly sense that girls at work begin to look at me differently, like they might be intrigued and slightly perturbed that they hadn't noticed earlier. The males that walk by my newly decorated cube look at me differently too, and usually comment, "Yeah, you do look like the queer from Brokeback Mountain. You know, the cowboy movie. God, that movie was SOOOOO gay."

Just another day and another dollar.