Fight Over Me



Swordsmen at the Ohio Renaissance Festival



I used to joke all the time whenever there was a situation where people were deciding what group I belonged to. I’d urge them to fight over me, and they’d naturally follow that with “You take her. No, you take her.” And then we’d all laugh.

But it wasn’t so funny when I found myself positioned between two warring  co-workers. When I suddenly found myself the third member of a three-person team, I didn’t think much about the comments bouncing back and forth at first. One person kept saying that she wouldn’t do anything without the other’s permission – even when she knew that it was causing a delay in work. And the other person wouldn’t do anything unless the other person was there, lest she be accused of not including her. It didn’t seem that big a deal. On the face of things, they were being nice and polite. A little too nice and polite, actually. They were being overly solicitous to each other while secretly whispering snide comments to me.

Lunchtime rolled around and as luck would have it, they both asked me to lunch at the same time. My standard line almost slipped out of my mouth by habit. I almost joked, “Fight over me!” but wisely held my tongue. I suggested the three of us each lunch together, and not having any concrete reason not to, they agreed. It was a fairly smooth lunch, but I could tell that I’ll have to watch my mouth. There will be too many times when “Fight over me!” could easily slip out.