This week is the start of my second rotation. I feel the pressure to perform for the first time since joining the Rather-Large-Bank. No more Easygoing Manager keeping me updated on the trials and tribulations of Pommy Dude and Half Pint Hottie. I feel out of my depth and far from my comfort zone.

Of course, all this uneasiness has nothing to do with work. Pft. As if. Work is child’s play in comparison to other expectations.

My new manager is in her thirties and a bit of a ball-breaker behind an unassuming façade – much like the band geek girl in American Pie. Finally! A woman of power to respect and emulate instead of the usual forty-something balding male executives, I thought to myself yesterday. As we chatted about our ambitions and interests, I felt an instant rapport between us. My Band Geek Manager is funny and unpretentious. And she seemed to love me instantly too.

“You’ve totally got the respect of Band Geek Manager now,” Heartbreaker told me as we walked back to the Rather-Large-Bank building after lunch. He had previously been working in my rotation.

“Really?” My eyes lit up. It was almost like in year 10 when I was told that the computer geek whom I had a crush on felt the same way about me.

“Yep. She thinks you’re great.”

“Really? Aww…I love her too. She even said I can do some due diligence work interstate sometime soon,” I said, recalling the conversation I had with Band Geek Manager yesterday.

“She’s fantastic to work with. You can learn a lot and still have a great time,” said Heartbreaker. “But you might have to share some good shag stories with her.”

“What!?”

“Well…she thinks you’re going to have some funny shag stories to tell.”

“WHAT?!!” I shrieked again.

“You’re single, right? So she’s expecting wild-single-girl-about-town stories to share.”

“But I have none! I spend most weekends scared that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life!”

“No you don’t. Besides, I already told her about that make out session you had over the Anzac weekend.” Heartbreaker said nonchalantly, unaware that this could well tarnish the professional front I have been trying to carve out for the past four months.

“But there was no sex! It was just making out!”

“Yeah. She said she can respect that, but expects more next time.”

“What about you? Did you share your shag stories with her?” I asked.

“No. I’ve been going out with my girlfriend for three years. We have no fun shag stories anymore.” Heartbreaker said disappointedly.

“Oh.” I said, trying to feign sympathy. “But what am I supposed to do about my non-existent wild-bachelorette stories?”

“As if that’s true!” Heartbreaker said unbelievingly. “You’ve got all these men hanging about.”

How I wished that to be true! Why is it that people think I have the most fabulous life surrounded by hot men and yet I spent the last Saturday night surrounded by dirty laundry?? I looked very unconvinced.

“The Divorcee, for example? What’s happening there?” he continued. “Anyway, you can always just make it up.”

“Make it up?? I am so out of my depth. You have no idea.”

“Don’t worry. You have an overactive imagination.” Heartbreaker tried to ease the anxiety.

Paging overactive imagination (it’s a good thing I have one)! Please conjure up fanciful sexual delights to further Polly’s career prospects.