I sing the praises of the office hookup. Where else but in the shadow of the copy machine can one meet a lover or a candidate for a drunken one-night stand who’s likely to have been drug-tested, vetted for a criminal record and checked for gnarly, communicable diseases?
As a public service to hard-up dudes and dudettes (or people of both or no genders), The Post published a story ahead of Saturday, Valentine’s Day — which I think of as the Super Bowl of sex. All you lonely folks who spend off-hours with your cats rather than practicing pickup lines or toning your abdominal muscles were warned to steer clear of potential playmates who work in adjacent cubicles.
Fifty-seven percent of American business professionals reported having engaged in workplace relationships at some point in their careers, according to a new survey by Vault.com. But Linley Taber wrote in this newspaper about some horrific instances of office coupling gone awry. These included the case of a female New York City financial recruiting firm employee who got plastered at a company function and went home with her boss — parading her conquest right in front of the co-worker whom she’d recently started seeing. Awkward!