When I think about the idiocy that surrounds me, it's little wonder that any work gets done at all here at Amalgamated.
First, it turns out that Jonny was away from his desk when Dr. Kinsey came to visit. Lest you think that I begrudge any employee a simple bathroom break or a quick smoke, let me tell you that Jonny was not engaged in either of those activities. Rather, it seems that Greg had challenged him to a splooge-shooting contest on the roof, and that's where he was. For two hours. (Yes, that's a lot of splooge but Jonny is a big guy...)
And so I reprimanded Jonny. Had he been a staff writer, I would have used the paddle, but because he's merely a receptionist, I spoke sternly. I think a paddle would only serve to titillate the guy, anyway.
Jonny was suitably contrite and so I moved on to my next order of business, even though I'm certain the building management will be on my ass about the incident. I may have to get Marilyn to clean it up.
Next, I tried to reach the Kinsey people. I got the run-around, as you might expect from a sex research group who probably spends most of its time hanging up on 14-year-old boys calling to find out what everybody is wearing and who they might be fucking. I left several messages, none of which were returned. Today, however, I received a letter from Alfred Kinsey himself:
Dear Ms. Vivant,
I dropped in on your intriguing place of business recently and would love to have talked with you but your employees could not locate you. I spent an enlightening hour with Ms. Lisabet Sarai, who supplied me with copious amounts of information, not the least of which was that you encourage sexual exploration among your staff.
Initially, I was encouraged by this news. Rarely in American business do we see such an open, permissive policy. Of concern, however, was Ms. Sarai's explanation of that policy. When I learned that you discourage emotional connections between your employees, I realized that perhaps your establishment was nothing more than a house of ill repute, in which case, it would not qualify for further consideration in my next research effort.
I hope you will understand my decision. Best wishes in your erotica-writing pursuits.
Immediately upon reading the letter, I spanked Lisabet mercilessly. Never have I imposed discipline quite so vigorously! Turns out, however, that her screams were actually requests for more, and so I stopped. I sent her home and I've told her I don't want to see her in the offices again until further notice.
I've decided to just go to the Kinsey Institute myself and save this situation. Wish me luck. I'll write again from there.