Rarely does Monday feel more Monday-like than it’s doing today. Even though I’m lucky enough to work from home, for myself no less, as minutes ticked towards 9am, I met them with stares of loathing.
I am, therefore, particularly sympathetic with the plight of a young woman who decides to call in sick first thing on Monday morning, simply because she can’t bear for it not to be the weekend any longer. She leaves a message in the office that she isn’t feeling very well, and will be back tomorrow.
Imagine her surprise when, as she is just beginning to enjoy her Glee DVD, the phone rings and reveals her boss on the other end.
“You appear to have Monday fever again,” says the boss, her voice wintry. “It seems to happen every other Monday this year, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Get yourself to work immediately, and see me in my office when you arrive. You know what’s going to happen.”
The girl is horrified to be found out, but thinks it prudent not to try and argue that she really is sick, in case the boss demands a doctor’s note. She is dressed for work and in her car within minutes.
The dressing-down she receives from her boss is as horrific as the girl could ever expect. There is mocking humiliation, there’s sharp analysis of everything she’d been doing wrong. The girl is in tears, despite trying very hard to stay a cool grown-up. Finally, the boss gives her usual order: “Take down your trousers and bend over my desk.”
Smart work trousers fall to the girl’s ankles, and she miserably bends forward. She berates herself for not having looked for a different job after the last time this happened.
The boss opens the desk drawer and extracts a thick shatter-proof plastic ruler. “Twenty-five strokes, and I want you to count them,” she says to the tearful girl.
The ruler burns rectangular prints into the girl’s skin. Quiet tears soon turn into sobs, but the boss is unmoved; she delivers the punishment with practised precision. She is quick, so that no more time is wasted. When it’s over, she says, “You may take a minute to bring yourself together, but I want you in your cubicle in five minutes. Clear?”
Most of the girl’s attention is on trying not to rub her flaming bottom, yet she manages a nod. “I’m sorry,” she says feebly.
“I know,” the boss responds, a little more gently. “Let’s not talk about it again, and I hope the ruler isn’t needed in the future. Go back to your desk, go.”
The girl shuffles away, sore an miserable. She hates Mondays even more now.
I don’t usually go for spanked at work fantasies, but this one was hot! Lovely exposure of our biased assumptions about the gender of bosses, too. I was embarrassed to find myself doing a double-take at “her voice.”
Mwahaha, gotcha!
Yep, I fell for the gender bias too, oops! Right up there with The Turbulent Term of Tyke Tyler (if anyone knows what I’m talking about, they are probably of a similar age 😉 Does have a near-caning in it though, which I always found very hot!)
Thanks for summarising the horror of Mondays so adeptly, Haron. On some of them, I think I’d actually risk the ruler (especially as “shatter-proof” ones usually break on me after a few strokes!).
Love this story, Haron!
I, too, must confess the gender bias in my mind as I read the story.
Your writing is like fine wine; it only gets better with time.
I love it – especially the ending when she’s more gentle
apropos wrathfull bosses:
Just found this on the notalwaysright.com website
Eggs Aren’t The Only Things Getting Beaten
Restaurant | Naperville, IL, USA
(My restaurant has a deal. If the lunch time food takes longer than 15 minutes to deliver to the table, the meal is free. I explain the concept to a table of three customers.)
Me: “If I don’t have that food out for you in 15 minutes, you guys don’t have to pay for lunch!”
Customer: “Wait. If you take too long and we don’t have to pay, does the price of the food come out of your salary?”
Me: *jokingly* “Oh, no, but my managers do take me outback and beat me.”
Customer: *pauses* “Can I watch?”
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