I have to go downstairs. Anyway, for each corridor, one through ten—i.e. the bicycle’s spokes, generally speaking—if you’re walking from the inner ring to the outer ring and the office number ends in 0-50, go left at the office number’s corresponding ring identifier. If it ends is 51-99, go right. If you’re walking in the opposite direction, do the opposite. I’m sure you get the idea.”
Okay. The Army has not trained me for this system. “Should I be taking notes? I feel like there’s a test at the end of all this.”
He laughs. I didn’t think it was possible, but when he smiles, it makes him even more attractive.
“You’ll get the hang of it. Everyone gets lost. All I want you to care about right now is how to find our office and how to find the Metro entrance. Our office is 2E801.”
“Two echo eight oh one,” I repeat.
“It’s located on the second floor, the E Ring, in Corridor 8, room 01.”
I process the sentence. “Oh, now it makes sense. That doesn’t sound too hard.”
He laughs again, like maybe he’s convinced I’m mental. “I’m glad you feel that way because I’m going to make you lead me there.”
Dillan
M Y BOSS , L OU A NN B RITTON , CALLS me into her office as soon as I arrive, which she almost never does. LouAnn is an attractive woman in her fifties who has worked long and hard to earn a corner office and the title of senior vice president of Brookshire Mierkle Industries.
Seven years ago, she took a chance on me right out of college, and I’ve been her senior executive assistant ever since. Many within the company think I’m sleeping with her, or that I have slept with her, and that’s how I earned the senior position.
While a somewhat accurate depiction of my womanizing ways—and seven years ago, I might have actually done something like that for a job—the rumors are, however, untrue. I’ve known the gossip for quite a while, and LouAnn only heard about it last year. I think she laughed for ten minutes straight after asking me if I knew what everyone was saying.
Another rumor surfaced last week. A rumor that I was LouAnn’s biological son. Obviously, this is something my actual mother would object to hearing, but it’s now out there and I assume that this is why LouAnn practically ordered me inside her office the second my feet landed on the fourteenth floor.
The receptionist, who hates my guts for some reason, didn’t even have time to give me a curt greeting before telling me my boss wanted to see me.
“I have a job for you,” LouAnn says after closing her office door. We are alone in her office, as usual, and I sit in my normal chair in front of her massive glass desk. Behind her, I can see the Old Post Office Pavilion, a building that’s always nice to look at.
“Hit me with it,” I say, referring to the job, not the building.
“It’s a covert job. I’m loaning you out.”
I smile. Sometimes LouAnn uses me to get the dirt on her rivals. Nothing illegal or even unethical. In LouAnn’s world, she calls them, “integrated business partnerships” and “liaison exchanges” and uses them to build up the young crop of business officials and “cross-pollinate” the industry. So I’m not alarmed that she’s decided to pimp me out again.
The last time she did this, I worked in Senator Murphy’s office for four months, assisting in drafting the language for a small-business-friendly bill. Senator Murphy is, of course, a female, and her staff is composed mostly of the female gender. And, yes, other than the senator herself, I dated all of the ladies at some point or another during, or after, that liaison exchange.
In fact, Stacey, the woman probably still asleep in my bed, used to be an intern with Senator Murphy. We happened to bump into each other two nights ago at the 930 Club and didn’t stop bumping into each other for forty-eight hours. We paused only when I had heard rustling out in the living room, which was when Sergeant
Okay. The Army has not trained me for this system. “Should I be taking notes? I feel like there’s a test at the end of all this.”
He laughs. I didn’t think it was possible, but when he smiles, it makes him even more attractive.
“You’ll get the hang of it. Everyone gets lost. All I want you to care about right now is how to find our office and how to find the Metro entrance. Our office is 2E801.”
“Two echo eight oh one,” I repeat.
“It’s located on the second floor, the E Ring, in Corridor 8, room 01.”
I process the sentence. “Oh, now it makes sense. That doesn’t sound too hard.”
He laughs again, like maybe he’s convinced I’m mental. “I’m glad you feel that way because I’m going to make you lead me there.”
Dillan
M Y BOSS , L OU A NN B RITTON , CALLS me into her office as soon as I arrive, which she almost never does. LouAnn is an attractive woman in her fifties who has worked long and hard to earn a corner office and the title of senior vice president of Brookshire Mierkle Industries.
Seven years ago, she took a chance on me right out of college, and I’ve been her senior executive assistant ever since. Many within the company think I’m sleeping with her, or that I have slept with her, and that’s how I earned the senior position.
While a somewhat accurate depiction of my womanizing ways—and seven years ago, I might have actually done something like that for a job—the rumors are, however, untrue. I’ve known the gossip for quite a while, and LouAnn only heard about it last year. I think she laughed for ten minutes straight after asking me if I knew what everyone was saying.
Another rumor surfaced last week. A rumor that I was LouAnn’s biological son. Obviously, this is something my actual mother would object to hearing, but it’s now out there and I assume that this is why LouAnn practically ordered me inside her office the second my feet landed on the fourteenth floor.
The receptionist, who hates my guts for some reason, didn’t even have time to give me a curt greeting before telling me my boss wanted to see me.
“I have a job for you,” LouAnn says after closing her office door. We are alone in her office, as usual, and I sit in my normal chair in front of her massive glass desk. Behind her, I can see the Old Post Office Pavilion, a building that’s always nice to look at.
“Hit me with it,” I say, referring to the job, not the building.
“It’s a covert job. I’m loaning you out.”
I smile. Sometimes LouAnn uses me to get the dirt on her rivals. Nothing illegal or even unethical. In LouAnn’s world, she calls them, “integrated business partnerships” and “liaison exchanges” and uses them to build up the young crop of business officials and “cross-pollinate” the industry. So I’m not alarmed that she’s decided to pimp me out again.
The last time she did this, I worked in Senator Murphy’s office for four months, assisting in drafting the language for a small-business-friendly bill. Senator Murphy is, of course, a female, and her staff is composed mostly of the female gender. And, yes, other than the senator herself, I dated all of the ladies at some point or another during, or after, that liaison exchange.
In fact, Stacey, the woman probably still asleep in my bed, used to be an intern with Senator Murphy. We happened to bump into each other two nights ago at the 930 Club and didn’t stop bumping into each other for forty-eight hours. We paused only when I had heard rustling out in the living room, which was when Sergeant
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