“You’re gonna love what I do when I’m on top of you.”
– Enrique Iglesias

Or

“I really did need a box moved. But the next thing you know I was bent over a three high stack of ink toner and seeing nothing but red.”
- new sales girl

11:12 a.m.: It’s the fifth day of working on the sex issue nonstop when the crossword puzzle girl, who’s trying to come up with sex terms for this week’s puzzle (pg. 52) asks what a rusty trombone is?
11:13 a.m.: Music guy quickly volunteers and starts clumsily detailing the maneuver before saying, “I better draw you an illustration.”
11:14 a.m.: Several co-workers watch over his shoulder as he scribbles away but before he even finishes the marketing guy turns to Marti and says, ”I want to fuck you.” “What!?” Marti screeches.
11:14:30 a.m.: “Right now,” marketing guy exclaims. He’s uncontrollable and starts grabbing at Marti.
11:15 a.m.: Tiara goes to get the boss. Boss comes out, takes in the situation, and says, “Well, I guess I can’t very well apply the usual code of conduct after asking you all to be as offensive as possible in this sex issue so if you want to jerk off or screw each other go ahead. I don’t care.”
11:15:37 a.m.: “All right!” marketing guy yelps. “All right, nothin’,” Marti says. “Get away from me.”
11:16:50 a.m.: “Come on, you know you want it,” tech girl says. “Well, I am a little tense,” Marti says.
11:17 a.m.: “Angie and Brian used to use the storage closest for sex before they got fired,” tech girl says.
11:17:22 a.m.: “Yeah, they had that code where Angie would ask for help moving a box and then they’d go at it for four minutes,” new guy says.
11:18 a.m.: “Could you help me move a box?” Marti says shyly to the marketing guy.
11:20 a.m.: Employees we rarely see are suddenly interested in what we’re doing. Heidi and Staci come over from the ad department and Andrew and Scottie from accounting are fumbling around.
11:24 a.m.: People are loitering outside the storage closet and at first I think they’re just ease-dropping but they’re actually in line - in twos and threes. Just about everybody has been asked for help moving a box.
11:26 a.m.: Arguments are breaking out and some people are getting antsy waiting for their turn. Juan, the new sales guy who’s rumored to be a serious swinger, immediately takes charge of the situation. And he’s either quite good at this or people don’t need much of a push to start fucking each other in public.
11:28 a.m.: Juan is directing people like he’s operating a Caligula fantasy camp. “Kerri, don’t swallow. Your tummy’s going to be full before everyone else gets a turn.” “Son, if the clothes are getting cumbersome just hike her skirt up.” “Hey you! Don’t touch your member. It’s a turn off.” “Scottie, loosen up the grip. A woman doesn’t like her head held like a volleyball and jammed down during oral sex.” (Here’s the move.)
11:35 a.m.: Kerri, the temp worker, says her first husband could never get her off so she knows over 2,000 positions. “ I tried everything. I’m Kamasutra Kerri. I just need a volunteer,” she says. New guy jumps right up and seems to be having the time of his life until he gets too excited in the fifth position. “Oops. OK, I’m going to need another volunteer,” Kerri says.
11:50 a.m.: Juan is hooking up a DVD player to the office TV. Before this, the only time we turned on the TV in the office was for the boss’s baseball games and the Gonzalez hearings. Now showing: Anal Fever 2.
11:58 a.m.: “If anybody needs any natural lubricant for areas that just won’t lubricate see me,” Staci says. “I’m always wet. It’s my gift to the world.”
12:04 p.m.: Carrot admits she’s often fancied the idea of being a dominatrix. “I’m not really into the whole sexual aspect of it but I like the idea of whipping people,” she says. “I think I have some stuff in the car.”
12:10 p.m.: Tiara says she doesn’t feel sexy enough. “I’m going to go to that costume shop and get like a Catholic schoolgirl’s outfit or something,” she says.
12:22 p.m.: A huge crowd has gathered around red carpet girl’s desk and there’s sporadic applause, like she’s putting on some kind of a show. “I can text with my twat,’ she says waving. “I’ve been doing it since the 10th grade.”
12:25 p.m.: Skip lunch.
12:33 p.m.: New guy is shaving Marti. “My fiancé never lets me do this,” he grins.
12:40 p.m.: Carrot appears in the office all legs and leather and looking like Kate Beckinsale in Underworld: Evolution, except for the clown nose. “I wanted to make it fun too,” she says.
12:42 p.m.: “You,” Juan says pointing to Scottie, “go with Carrot to the basement.”
12:42:14 p.m.: “Neat, I didn’t even know we had a basement,” Scotty says.
: The interoffice mail guy comes in and after a quick glance around the office asks if he can stay awhile. “I’m ahead of schedule this morning anyway,” he says. “Sure you can stay,” tech girl says. How far ahead of schedule are you. If it’s four minutes, come with me. I need help moving some boxes.”
1:10 p.m.: Heidi tells me she reads Laurel Hamilton vampire books because vampires have the best sex. “You want me to sit on your lap and read you this part about this girl vampire hunter having sex with two guys?” she asks. If you want to, I say.
1:30 p.m.: Heidi gives me the set up that the hunter is narrating while getting it on with vampires Demetrius and Jean-Claude and then gets right into it: “Auggie was hard enough that the head was naked above the silky foreskin. I rolled my mouth over that head, then shoved as much of him into my mouth as I could, as fast and hard as I could. It made me come up choking, but it also tore Auggie away form Jean-Claude’s mouth.” - Jean-Claude is the master vampire of the city, Heidi interjects. That’s not important, I say. Go on.
1:32 p.m.: “ I went down on him again, slower, lingering over the feel of him in my mouth, so ripe, so thick, and how the hard line of that curve felt going down my throat. --- I rose up from Demitrius’ body and said, “Don’t, don’t close down. Lets’ do this. Do it all.” - How am I doing?” Heidi asks. Great, I say. This has been the best story time ever.
1:50 p.m.: Tiara comes back from the costume shop but she looks like sort of a transvestite/ tin man/ nun. “They were out of the sexy stuff so I had to put a mishmash together. This feather duster goes with a French maid outfit though,” she says. That’s good, I say. “And they gave me this to strap on.” Oh my God.
2:07 p.m.: Scotty comes up out of the basement with file clips on his nipples and his pants down revealing a baboon red butt. “I want to cover up but it’s so sore,” he says. “My ass needs air. Don’t let the clown nose fool you. That girl means business.”
2:09 p.m.: Go down to basement, hear the crack of the whip and spot the interoffice mail guy just about to scream when Carrot jams one of those sadistic red latex rubber ball gags in his mouth.
2:10 p.m.: Run back upstairs.
2:33 p.m.: Tiara is distraught. “People tell me I sound like a goose when I orgasm. I honk,” she says. Honking’s hot, I say.
: Several male employees are arguing over the intern. Music guy says she’s hands off as usual. “But she’s game,” Scotty says. “She’s the intern,” music guy keeps repeating.
: Boss comes out and announces, “You can do anything you want with the intern but just today.”
2:50 p.m.: Several female coworkers are taking a break and discussing how Andy may be weasly looking but he’s actually a “major fuckster.” “You get him in the closet or the break room and he’s like a transformer,” someone says. “ I know,” red carpet girl says. “I felt like I was being gouged by the rod from a nuclear reactor.”
2:51 p.m.: “No, its more like riding the turret of a battleship,” tech girl says.
2:51:14 p.m.: “I closed my eyes and made believe I was the ocean floor being pounded by an offshore drilling rig,” Staci says.
3:01 p.m.: Word goes out that they’ve got kiddie porn on the Internet in the billing department. “Yes!” art guy screams running off but comes back totally dejected. “It’s kitty porn, not kiddie porn,” he says.
3:10 p.m.: Juan is working the room again, spouting out orders: “ A little more finesse folks. That looks more like Dunkin’ Donuts than tea baggin.’ Heidi, if you’re going to do it standing up facing the wall, put your heels back on. They’ll make your perky butt stick up just right. That’s better.” “Jesus, you guys sound like chalk on a blackboard,’ he says to one couple. ”Get some of that lubricant Staci’s dispensing.”
3:16 p.m.: Big boss comes in, looks totally shocked for a second but then nods and says, “I get it, transformative change. Penguins behave this way. No inhibitions. I love it. Who wants to take a ride on my Harley?” I’ll go if I can call you Jean- Claude?” Heidi says.
3:33 p.m.: There’s a line at the art guy’s desk and he’s painting the breasts of several girls who came over from the nail salon next door. It’s as if he’s operating a booth at Ozzfest.
: “Don’t call me mommy!” Staci yells at new guy. “Don’t call me daddy,” new guy shouts back. “Daddys different,” Staci says.
: Juan is berating Scottie. “Cunnilingus or analingus – one or the other! No mixing it up on my watch.
4:10 p.m.: Tiara is completely disheveled. One breast is hanging out. “I don’t care,” she says. “You can put it away for me if you want. I won’t slap your hand.”
4:11 p.m.: Put Tiara’s left breast away. .
4:12 p.m.: You look like hell, I say. You feel OK?
4:12:34 p.m.: I think I have anal fever, she says.
4:15 p.m.: Boss comes out to make an announcement: “Anyone who calls in sick tomorrow with anal fever will be docked two days pay.”
5:05 p.m.: A tall Vietnamese nail tech with a herd of wild horses airbrushed across her small breasts sticks out her hand and asks me if I want to get high. I guess so, I say.
5:10 p.m.: She leads me out the break room door lays down on the grass along the canal. “Salon weed is the best,” she says lighting up. “You want to eat animal crackers off my stomach?” Yes.
5:16 p.m.: “If you want to taste me down there you can,” she says uncrossing her legs. OK, I say, but can I finish the cookies first?
5:32 p.m.: As I’m heading back inside there’s an odd looking guy outside the back door holding a goat. “Juan asked me to bring it in when the time is right,” he says
5:34 p.m.: When I get back in the office crossword girl says, “Look,” pointing across the room to Marti and the music guy. “That illustration didn’t do the rusty trombone justice.”
5:35 p.m.: A little turned off, I head toward the basement. Near the front of the office Juan is trying to get everybody to move in for a group photo. “Say Sodom and Gomorah,” he grins
5:36 p.m.: As I pass the storage closet I hear someone exclaim, “Don’t, don’t close down. Let’s do this. Do it all!”
5:37 p.m.: “Terry, you ready for your whuppin’?” Carrot asks sweetly.
5:37:28 p.m.: I guess I deserve it, I say. But do you have to stick that rubber ball in my mouth?
5:37:39 p.m.: “Not if you take it like a man, little boy. No screaming.”
5:38 p.m.: Jam ball into my own mouth.

Posted by T Shine at 12:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

“You’re gonna love what I do when I’m on top of you.”
– Enrique Iglesias

Or

: “I really did need a box moved,” sales girl tells me. “But the next thing you know I was bent over a three high stack of ink toner and seeing nothing but red.”

11:12 a.m.: It’s the fifth day of working on the sex issue nonstop when the crossword puzzle girl, who’s trying to come up with sex terms for this week’s puzzle (pg. 52) asks what a rusty trombone is?
11:13 a.m.: Music guy quickly volunteers and starts clumsily detailing the maneuver before saying, “I better draw you an illustration.”
11:14 a.m.: Several co-workers watch over his shoulder as he scribbles away but before he even finishes the marketing guy turns to Marti and says, ”I want to fuck you.” “What!?” Marti screeches.
11:14:30 a.m.: “Right now,” marketing guy exclaims. He’s uncontrollable and starts grabbing at Marti.
11:15 a.m.: Tiara goes to get the boss. Boss comes out, takes in the situation, and says, “Well, I guess I can’t very well apply the usual code of conduct after asking you all to be as offensive as possible in this sex issue so if you want to jerk off or screw each other go ahead. I don’t care.”
11:15:37 a.m.: “All right!” marketing guy yelps. “All right, nothin’,” Marti says. “Get away from me.”
11:16:50 a.m.: “Come on, you know you want it,” tech girl says. “Well, I am a little tense,” Marti says.
11:17 a.m.: “Angie and Brian used to use the storage closest for sex before they got fired,” tech girl says.
11:17:22 a.m.: “Yeah, they had that code where Angie would ask for help moving a box and then they’d go at it for four minutes,” new guy says.
11:18 a.m.: “Could you help me move a box?” Marti says shyly to the marketing guy.
11:20 a.m.: Employees we rarely see are suddenly interested in what we’re doing. Heidi and Staci come over from the ad department and Andrew and Scottie from accounting are fumbling around.
11:24 a.m.: People are loitering outside the storage closet and at first I think they’re just ease-dropping but they’re actually in line - in twos and threes. Just about everybody has been asked for help moving a box.
11:26 a.m.: Arguments are breaking out and some people are getting antsy waiting for their turn. Juan, the new sales guy who’s rumored to be a serious swinger, immediately takes charge of the situation. And he’s either quite good at this or people don’t need much of a push to start fucking each other in public.
11:28 a.m.: Juan is directing people like he’s operating a Caligula fantasy camp. “Kerri, don’t swallow. Your tummy’s going to be full before everyone else gets a turn.” “Son, if the clothes are getting cumbersome just hike her skirt up.” “Hey you! Don’t touch your member. It’s a turn off.” “Scottie, loosen up the grip. A woman doesn’t like her head held like a volleyball and jammed down during oral sex.” (Here’s the move.)
11:35 a.m.: Kerri, the temp worker, says her first husband could never get her off so she knows over 2,000 positions. “ I tried everything. I’m Kamasutra Kerri. I just need a volunteer,” she says. New guy jumps right up and seems to be having the time of his life until he gets too excited in the fifth position. “Oops. OK, I’m going to need another volunteer,” Kerri says.
11:50 a.m.: Juan is hooking up a DVD player to the office TV. Before this, the only time we turned on the TV in the office was for the boss’s baseball games and the Gonzalez hearings. Now showing: Anal Fever 2.
11:58 a.m.: “If anybody needs any natural lubricant for areas that just won’t lubricate see me,” Staci says. “I’m always wet. It’s my gift to the world.”
12:04 p.m.: Carrot admits she’s often fancied the idea of being a dominatrix. “I’m not really into the whole sexual aspect of it but I like the idea of whipping people,” she says. “I think I have some stuff in the car.”
12:10 p.m.: Tiara says she doesn’t feel sexy enough. “I’m going to go to that costume shop and get like a Catholic schoolgirl’s outfit or something,” she says.
12:22 p.m.: A huge crowd has gathered around red carpet girl’s desk and there’s sporadic applause, like she’s putting on some kind of a show. “I can text with my twat,’ she says waving. “I’ve been doing it since the 10th grade.”
12:25 p.m.: Skip lunch.
12:33 p.m.: New guy is shaving Marti. “My fiancé never lets me do this,” he grins.
12:40 p.m.: Carrot appears in the office all legs and leather and looking like Kate Beckinsale in Underworld: Evolution, except for the clown nose. “I wanted to make it fun too,” she says.
12:42 p.m.: “You,” Juan says pointing to Scottie, “go with Carrot to the basement.”
12:42:14 p.m.: “Neat, I didn’t even know we had a basement,” Scotty says.
: The interoffice mail guy comes in and after a quick glance around the office asks if he can stay awhile. “I’m ahead of schedule this morning anyway,” he says. “Sure you can stay,” tech girl says. How far ahead of schedule are you. If it’s four minutes, come with me. I need help moving some boxes.”
1:10 p.m.: Heidi tells me she reads Laurel Hamilton vampire books because vampires have the best sex. “You want me to sit on your lap and read you this part about this girl vampire hunter having sex with two guys?” she asks. If you want to, I say.
1:30 p.m.: Heidi gives me the set up that the hunter is narrating while getting it on with vampires Demetrius and Jean-Claude and then gets right into it: “Auggie was hard enough that the head was naked above the silky foreskin. I rolled my mouth over that head, then shoved as much of him into my mouth as I could, as fast and hard as I could. It made me come up choking, but it also tore Auggie away form Jean-Claude’s mouth.” - Jean-Claude is the master vampire of the city, Heidi interjects. That’s not important, I say. Go on.
1:32 p.m.: “ I went down on him again, slower, lingering over the feel of him in my mouth, so ripe, so thick, and how the hard line of that curve felt going down my throat. --- I rose up from Demitrius’ body and said, “Don’t, don’t close down. Lets’ do this. Do it all.” - How am I doing?” Heidi asks. Great, I say. This has been the best story time ever.
1:50 p.m.: Tiara comes back from the costume shop but she looks like sort of a transvestite/ tin man/ nun. “They were out of the sexy stuff so I had to put a mishmash together. This feather duster goes with a French maid outfit though,” she says. That’s good, I say. “And they gave me this to strap on.” Oh my God.
2:07 p.m.: Scotty comes up out of the basement with file clips on his nipples and his pants down revealing a baboon red butt. “I want to cover up but it’s so sore,” he says. “My ass needs air. Don’t let the clown nose fool you. That girl means business.”
2:09 p.m.: Go down to basement, hear the crack of the whip and spot the interoffice mail guy just about to scream when Carrot jams one of those sadistic red latex rubber ball gags in his mouth.
2:10 p.m.: Run back upstairs.
2:33 p.m.: Tiara is distraught. “People tell me I sound like a goose when I orgasm. I honk,” she says. Honking’s hot, I say.
: Several male employees are arguing over the intern. Music guy says she’s hands off as usual. “But she’s game,” Scotty says. “She’s the intern,” music guy keeps repeating.
: Boss comes out and announces, “You can do anything you want with the intern but just today.”
2:50 p.m.: Several female coworkers are taking a break and discussing how Andy may be weasly looking but he’s actually a “major fuckster.” “You get him in the closet or the break room and he’s like a transformer,” someone says. “ I know,” red carpet girl says. “I felt like I was being gouged by the rod from a nuclear reactor.”
2:51 p.m.: “No, its more like riding the turret of a battleship,” tech girl says.
2:51:14 p.m.: “I closed my eyes and made believe I was the ocean floor being pounded by an offshore drilling rig,” Staci says.
3:01 p.m.: Word goes out that they’ve got kiddie porn on the Internet in the billing department. “Yes!” art guy screams running off but comes back totally dejected. “It’s kitty porn, not kiddie porn,” he says.
3:10 p.m.: Juan is working the room again, spouting out orders: “ A little more finesse folks. That looks more like Dunkin’ Donuts than tea baggin.’ Heidi, if you’re going to do it standing up facing the wall, put your heels back on. They’ll make your perky butt stick up just right. That’s better.” “Jesus, you guys sound like chalk on a blackboard,’ he says to one couple. ”Get some of that lubricant Staci’s dispensing.”
3:16 p.m.: Big boss comes in, looks totally shocked for a second but then nods and says, “I get it, transformative change. Penguins behave this way. No inhibitions. I love it. Who wants to take a ride on my Harley?” I’ll go if I can call you Jean- Claude?” Heidi says.
3:33 p.m.: There’s a line at the art guy’s desk and he’s painting the breasts of several girls who came over from the nail salon next door. It’s as if he’s operating a booth at Ozzfest.
: “Don’t call me mommy!” Staci yells at new guy. “Don’t call me daddy,” new guy shouts back. “Daddys different,” Staci says.
: Juan is berating Scottie. “Cunnilingus or analingus – one or the other! No mixing it up on my watch.
4:10 p.m.: Tiara is completely disheveled. One breast is hanging out. “I don’t care,” she says. “You can put it away for me if you want. I won’t slap your hand.”
4:11 p.m.: Put Tiara’s left breast away. .
4:12 p.m.: You look like hell, I say. You feel OK?
4:12:34 p.m.: I think I have anal fever, she says.
4:15 p.m.: Boss comes out to make an announcement: “Anyone who calls in sick tomorrow with anal fever will be docked two days pay.”
5:05 p.m.: A tall Vietnamese nail tech with a herd of wild horses airbrushed across her small breasts sticks out her hand and asks me if I want to get high. I guess so, I say.
5:10 p.m.: She leads me out the break room door lays down on the grass along the canal. “Salon weed is the best,” she says lighting up. “You want to eat animal crackers off my stomach?” Yes.
5:16 p.m.: “If you want to taste me down there you can,” she says uncrossing her legs. OK, I say, but can I finish the cookies first?
5:32 p.m.: As I’m heading back inside there’s an odd looking guy outside the back door holding a goat. “Juan asked me to bring it in when the time is right,” he says
5:34 p.m.: When I get back in the office crossword girl says, “Look,” pointing across the room to Marti and the music guy. “That illustration didn’t do the rusty trombone justice.”
5:35 p.m.: A little turned off, I head toward the basement. Near the front of the office Juan is trying to get everybody to move in for a group photo. “Say Sodom and Gomorah,” he grins
5:36 p.m.: As I pass the storage closet I hear someone exclaim, “Don’t, don’t close down. Let’s do this. Do it all!”
5:37 p.m.: “Terry, you ready for your whuppin’?” Carrot asks sweetly.
5:37:28 p.m.: I guess I deserve it, I say. But do you have to stick that rubber ball in my mouth?
5:37:39 p.m.: “Not if you take it like a man, little boy. No screaming.”
5:38 p.m.: Jam ball into my own mouth.

Posted by T Shine at 11:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

“This is the worst day of your life … so far.”
— Homer Simpson, after Bart complains he has just experienced the worst day of his life

10:10 a.m.: An employee who always acts like she’s the most overworked person in the office is going on and on about how she just needs a break when marketing guy blurts out, “ ‘Wah, wah, wah!’ Stop your whining. You’re so full of it. Do the math.”
10:11 a.m.: “What math?” she asks. “I don’t do math.”
10:11:15 a.m.: “There are 52 weeks in a year, so that means 52 weekends,” marketing guy says. “That’s 104 days off right there.”
10:11:34 a.m.: “I worked a weekend once,” she says.
10:11:40 a.m.: “You did a story at the Hard Rock on a Saturday night, and you drank for free and ended up getting laid,” marketing guys says. “That doesn’t count.”
10:12 a.m.: “But anyway,” he continues, “then, you have your two weeks’ vacation and, like, four personal days? Then, throw in the usual seven or eight national holidays a year. Plus, you’re Jewish, so toss in a few of those Rosh Hashana things and right off the bat, you’re up to more than 135 days a year that you do absolutely no work. And that’s not even deducting hours for how many days you come in late or leave early.”
10:13 a.m.: “I work late, too,” she says. “Once, and that was because … ”
10:13:12 a.m.: “Never mind.”
10:50 a.m.: Since our last staff meeting got a little heated, the boss has hung a new slogan over his office window just in case anyone still has any misconception of how things operate around here. Sign reads: “I may not be right, but I’m never wrong.”
11:12 a.m.: New guy is upset with all the places that ask if he’d like to donate a dollar. “It started at Publix,” he says. “After they ring you up, they say, ‘Would you like to donate a dollar to help children with cystic fibrosis?’ or whatever. So yeah, of course you do. But now, every place is doing it. Wendy’s did it to me last night. I can’t donate a dollar at Wendy’s. I’m there for the Super Value Menu to begin with. I’m living on 99-cent chili. When are people going to give me a dollar?”
11:14 a.m.: Everyone gives new guy a dollar.
11:33 a.m.: Music guy comes over to me all excited about a “brilliant” idea he has. “We take existing biographies of famous people and insert your name, whoever you are,” he says. “So when you’re reading it, it’s all about you, only you’re, like, Alexander the Great or somebody.”
11:34 a.m.: Terry the Great?
11:34:34 a.m.: “Maybe that’s a bad example,” he says. “But say it’s Keith Richards’ biography and a chapter begins, ‘Shine sat in the shadows on a wobbly crate looking like a vampire, a needle still hanging from his left arm.’ ”
11:35 a.m.: I see where you’re going with this, I say, but I don’t know if I want to come. Let me ponder it over lunch.
12:50 p.m.: Head to lunch to eat alone.
12:52 p.m.: As I pass the temp lady at the front desk, she sighs and says, “There’s so little reward in life.”
12:52:11 p.m.: Amen, I reply.
1:05 p.m.: At the park where I eat my tuna kit, a baseball field is under construction, and several workers are putting the finishing touches on the dugouts. I have zero interest in baseball, but I like everything about dugouts. I like dropping beneath ground level, the dirt and the sudden coolness.
1:22 p.m.: Before I finish eating, the workers disperse on a break of their own, so I go sit in the home team’s dugout. The earth smells fresh, and the prairie dog view is relaxing. I think about the nights in ninth grade I spent in the dugout at Randall Field lazily talking to Sue Martelli about how we’d have a horse farm one day and a soda machine in our bedroom.
1:26 p.m.: Dugouts are always best at night, when baseball is the furthest thing from your mind.
2:05 p.m.: When I get back from lunch, all the employees are being herded into the conference room for another corporate meeting. The same honcho who came in last week to scare us with film clips from 300 — to illustrate how we’re being massacred in the industry — is standing in the front of the room.
2:07 p.m.: “First off, I want to apologize,” he begins. “Last week got a little bloody, and I guess I said something about someone’s baby having to strip her way through vocational school if profits don’t pick up. And my assistant tells me the part about children being smothered by a circus tent was a bit disturbing to some of you. Anyway, I’m here tomake amends.”
2:08 p.m.: He pauses, leaving us with deadly silence, and then yells, “Penguins!”
2:08:22 p.m.: “We’re switching to a penguin analogy. Everybody loves penguins, right?” he asks.
2:08:41 p.m.: We all look at one another.
2:09 p.m.: “You’re not offended by penguins, are you?” he asks the same sales rep who last week had to imagine 4-month-old baby Emily and her chubby little arms swinging on a stripper pole.
2:09:22 p.m.: “No, penguins are cute,” she says.
2:10 p.m.: “Exactly,” he says, opening up his dress shirt to reveal a T-shirt that reads: EMPEROR PENGUIN. “The future is now, and I’m ready to lead you on the march to success.”
2:10:12 p.m.: “The iceberg is melting, people!” he bellows. “Who’s with me?”
2:11 p.m.: Our boss, who has been standing quietly next to the penguin emperor, takes his dress shirt off to reveal a Kellie Pickler T-shirt.
2:12 p.m.: Emperor Penguin just looks at boss oddly, shrugs and says, “That’s not part of the new program. But this is!”
2:12:18 p.m.: Emperor Penguin’s assistant jumps up and spills a large bag of ice across the conference table. There’s a collective gasp, several people lift their coffee cups off the table, and the new lady from marketing gets hit in the tooth with an ice cube. “I’m OK,” she says.
2:13 p.m.: Emperor Penguin is beaming as if he just blew up a bounce house for us to romp in. “Who’s first?” he shouts.
2:13:30 p.m.: We all look at one another: First for what?
2:14 p.m.: “Come on, you folks in the back. Slide on your bellies across the table. Come to me. Join me on this quest.”
2:15 p.m.: One by one, several employees start sliding on their bellies across the conference table. A few have pretty good form with their feet up in the air and chunky stomachs rolling them along. But many can only move awkwardly in stops and starts and fits and farts.
2:21 p.m.: The ice is turning to water, and everyone is kind of just puddle-jumping now. The last employees in line either throw a leg up on the table in a gesture of camaraderie or stick their fingers in the water and halfheartedly flick it at their faces in sort of a sloppy, holy-water blessing.
2:23 p.m.: I feign a coughing fit and excuse myself from the room … and the future.

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I hope and I pray you’ll leave me one day.
– Camera Obscura

10:12 a.m.: Everyone is standing around red carpet girl’s desk and she’s ranting about being arrested at some kind of purse party in Boca.
10:13 a.m.: “You mean like knock-off handbags?” Tiara asks. “No, don’t be silly. I don’t buy fakes. These are legitimately stolen purses - some guy out of New York. The best selection.”
10:14 a.m.: So they raided the place? I ask. “They didn’t mean to,” red carpet girl says. “Some neighbors complained about cars blocking the road and then when the police came my friend Allysa was in the driveway showing some waitress from The Cheesecake Factory a Dooney & Bourke slouch and the cop got curious and Miss Cheesecake got scared. Told him everything. Those Factory girls are idiots.”
10:14:21 a.m.: “Yeah,” new guy says. “You’d think with that big menu you’d have to be smart but I went out with a Cheesecake Factory worker and she was dumber than me.”
10:15 a.m.: “We tried to give the cop a Fendi for his wife and send him on his way but he was a hard-ass about it,” red carpet girl says.
10:16 a.m.: Did you actually spend a night in jail? I ask. “I wish”, she says. “There were so many of us they stuck us in the break room at the police station. It looked like a prostitute roundup only with better pedicures. They made us turn our cell phones off and keep our arms crossed so we couldn’t text. Oh, and the soda machines were out of everything but canned iced tea. I hate canned iced tea.”
10:18 a.m.: Can we go online and see your mug shot? Carrot asks.
10:18:33 a.m.: “They didn’t photograph me,” red carpet girl says disappointedly. “They said some of us are going to be witnesses and some of us are going to be charged. I asked if I could choose and the lady cop just looked at me like she wanted my earrings. I don’t even care but now I have to go for an interrogation at like 4:30 on Friday and I was supposed to leave early to go ‘glamping.’”
10:19 a.m.: Glamping?
10:19:11 a.m.: “Glamorous camping,” red carpet girl says. ”I just went out and bought this metallic silver air mattress and I found a rain fly in a soft-hued lily pattern that I absolutely love.”
10:20 a.m.: “I wish I had your life,” Tiara says. “You wouldn’t know what to do with it,” red carpet girl says. “You’d be like a Cheesecake Factory girl in a trig class.”
10:34 a.m.: Go online to learn what I can about glamping and what kind of equipment I might need or desire.
10:40 a.m.: Put headphones on because Marti keeps complaining about her roommate. “I don’t mind sharing,” she says. “I just don’t like having people around me that I feel obligated to share with.”
11:19 a.m.: Intern stops in the office after a long vacation. Shows me a photo she had taken with the world’s third largest elk that was on exhibit in Georgia. That’s different, I say. Do you know where the second largest elk is? “If I knew where the second largest elk was why the fuck would I get my picture taken with the third largest?” she says getting in my face.
11:20 a.m.: I start quivering and she says, “Sorry, my mom thinks I should get into anger management but I don’t want to not be angry.”
11:33 a.m.: Read in a magazine about what you’re supposed to do if attacked by different kinds of animals. If cornered by a baboon: Start clapping.
12:51 p.m.: Sales guy comes by to tell me he’s been seeing this girl that works in his optometrist’s office. “She’s perfect for me but it’s like I’m falling just short of her expectations,” he says. “It’s like I’m almost…”
12:52 p.m.: That’s exactly it, I say. You’re an avalanche of almosts. You’re almost smart enough, almost good looking enough, almost witty enough, almost tall enough, almost articulate enough, almost make enough money, almost…
12:53 p.m.: ”So she should keep looking?”
12:53:12 p.m.: Definitely.
1:07 p.m.: Go to lunch and eat alone.
1:17 p.m.: Spot a pinecone on the ground near the picnic table I’m eating at. Pick it up and then look around for stuff I can use to make a picnic table centerpiece. Gather up a few small fronds, a handful of gravy-brown berries and some tiny blue flowers that I decide to call tiny blue flowers.
1:01 p.m.: My picnic table centerpiece is beautiful.
1:03 p.m. And I’m glad I have no one to share it with.
2:04 p.m.: When I get back in the office all the employees are in the conference room where some company honcho we’ve never seen before is giving a presentation on why new initiatives are crucial for the survival of the company. On the screen behind him he is showing battle scenes from the 300. Blood is everywhere and he says, “This is how we’re being massacred right now. Am I making it clear enough how imperative change is? Should I go on or do you just want to stand there dumbfounded with your mouths open while you wait to be crucified?
2:05 p.m.: “I don’t want to be crucified,” one employee says meekly.
2:05:37 p.m.: “Then we fight back. We line up and get on the bus to Thermopylae. We put on our Spartan pants and get to work.”
2:06 p.m.: “Are we going to have to buy our own Spartan pants or will the company provide them?” new guy asks without getting a response.
2:07 p.m.: “Does anyone here have children?” the honcho asks and the sales rep - who just had a baby - raises her hand.
2:07:44 p.m.: “Boy or girl?”
2:07:50 p.m. “Girl.”
2:08 p.m.: “Well, do you want her to have to strip to pay for nail tech school or do you want this company to thrive so you’ll be able to pay her tuition to a top university?”
2:08:22 p.m.: “I don’t want Emily to have to strip,” sales rep says.
2:09 p.m.: “Well, these are the kinds of decisions we’re making here today people. The 300 too much for you, how ‘bout the circus?” he says clicking to a circus video image. “Imagine the big top suddenly collapses on itself and begins to smother every living thing beneath it.”
2:10 p.m.: “Tigers and elephants and clowns in little cars crushed. Children swinging little monkeys on a stick one second, gasping for an air bubble in a bucket of popcorn the next. You!” he says to me. “What’s going through your head right this second?”
2:11 p.m.: Well, I say I was thinking how I’m always attracted to trapeze ladies even if they’re not particularly pretty. I have the same thing with women who drive in open jeeps. I just find them sexy no matter what they look like.
2:11:28 p.m.: The honcho suddenly comes at me. I’m cornered, my back pressed up against the copy machine. He’s a big guy and I can tell he thinks I’m about to shit my Spartan pants but I know exactly what to do.
2:11:36 p.m.: Start clapping.

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