How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Boss
Copyright © 2008 Lusty Library
I was sick. And I was tired. I was sick and tired of working for a woman who had constant PMS, was a control freak, had penis envy, was fiercely protective of her status, and was impossible to please. And here it was, another Monday morning."We're staying late tonight," she barked, "to finish the quarterly report." The end of the quarter was four weeks away. "I had plans tonight," I protested, to no avail. "Your rating will suffer. Or maybe your job will be excessed," she threatened. "You don't want to lose your job, do you?" she asked with a sneer. She seemed to delight in tormenting me. Ugly, fat, and sour, she was truly miserable."No, Ms. Deitz," I replied. My husband urged me to quit this job, or at least request a transfer away from this tyrant. But I wouldn't let her win. I'd fight her. I'd work around her or I'd go over her head to her boss. There was one problem: Dietz's boss was even bitchier and more competitive yet. Mary Pabst was her name; in my thoughts I referred to her as Cruella DeVille. For a boss, she wasn't bad looking. She had a nice figure under her fine dresses. She was tall, long-legged, and had a flat tummy. Standing in her heels with her hair and makeup just right, she was alluring. Until you looked at her face. Serious and angry. Men wouldn't cross her and women hated her. Her underlings quivered when she spoke to ...
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I was sick. And I was tired. I was sick and tired of working for a woman who had constant PMS, was a control freak, had penis envy, was fiercely protective of her status, and was impossible to please. And here it was, another Monday morning."We're staying late tonight," she barked, "to finish the quarterly report." The end of the quarter was four weeks away. "I had plans tonight," I protested, to no avail. "Your rating will suffer. Or maybe your job will be excessed," she threatened. "You don't want to lose your job, do you?" she asked with a sneer. She seemed to delight in tormenting me. Ugly, fat, and sour, she was truly miserable."No, Ms. Deitz," I replied. My husband urged me to quit this job, or at least request a transfer away from this tyrant. But I wouldn't let her win. I'd fight her. I'd work around her or I'd go over her head to her boss. There was one problem: Dietz's boss was even bitchier and more competitive yet. Mary Pabst was her name; in my thoughts I referred to her as Cruella DeVille. For a boss, she wasn't bad looking. She had a nice figure under her fine dresses. She was tall, long-legged, and had a flat tummy. Standing in her heels with her hair and makeup just right, she was alluring. Until you looked at her face. Serious and angry. Men wouldn't cross her and women hated her. Her underlings quivered when she spoke to ...
Get The Full Story At Lusty Library
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