A couple of weeks ago at work, we had a studio meeting. They have these about twice a year. It’s a state of the union for the studio and also a good chance to ask the studio head some questions… like how big the bonuses are gonna be this year.

Anyways, the meeting was held the at IMAX theatre at Canada Place. When we were done, everyone left the theatre at the same time. We blocked traffic trying to leave the cruise ship terminal for several minutes. When we got back to the lobby of the studio, the elevators got crowded quickly.

I stood in front of one near capacity car. I was going to let it go but Christi, one of the project managers on our team, told me there was room for me and that I should squeeze in. At the last second, I jumped in and stood behind her. Someone else next to me was scratching their head or something and then moved his hand down by his side. As he was doing this though, he brushed up against Christi’s back, quite close to her butt. In the nearly silent elevator, she protested this invasion of her personal space.

“Erwin! Don’t put your hand there!”

I swear I didn’t mean this in any other way, but I quickly blurted out something I instantly wanted to take back.

“That wasn’t my hand.”

The elevator erupted in juvenille laughter while Christi only could say, “Ewwwwwwwwwwwww….” The doors opened onto our floor and she sprinted from the elevator. And that’s story of how HR flagged my name in the database for the very first time.

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