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The funny part is my gut reaction is to come up with something to say next that won't make him uncomfortable. What would I do otherwise? Cause a scene? Claim harassment by a man who likely helped pay for the open bar I'm drinking at because he tapped my hip and clavicle? I hate myself a little for the passivity of it, but in professional situations like this, with my literal livelihood at stake, I revert to a sacred little girl who has internalized that under no circumstances should she ruffle affluent society's feathers.
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