It all began with Polly, about 24 years old and a picture postcard Australian blonde. Although Polly is quite bright with plenty of initiative she cannot seem to avoid presenting me work with careless typo's and spelling mistakes. Whenever I gently chide her for not taking more care with her work she is quite dismissive and says that near enough is good enough and that I am too pedantic.
Finally one day it was all too much for me and I told her that if she did not pull her socks up and improve the quality of her work I would be pulling her dress up and improving the quality of her discipline.
To my surprise she responded, "Fair enough," and went off to transcribe a short tape that I had just dictated.
About ten minutes later she came in to my office with the first draft of the document that I had dictated and told me that she had proofread it to make sure that there were no errors as she did not wish to cause me any further irritation. You can imagine my surprise at finding the client's name spelled wrongly in the very first line of the address. Without reading any more of the letter I handed it back to her with the warning that I would give her another chance to fix the errors before administering appropriate corporal punishment to help her avoid careless errors in the future.
She returned after a few minutes telling me that she was now satisfied that the letter was perfect, and she was confident that I would not find any errors. I got as far as the first sentence before finding the reference to the client's letter that I had "received" that morning. Six other mistakes in spelling or punctuation were also found.
I told Polly that she was to stay back after work when we would deal with what should be done about her unacceptable performance. She insolently responded by telling me that she had shopping to do and that our discussion would have to wait for a more convenient time. I told her in no uncertain terms that I was her boss and that she was to do as I directed and stay back after work, or else not come in tomorrow or any other day.
"I'm so sorry Boss -- I really need my wage and can't afford to be sacked."
"Well, in that case you will need to undergo my special obedience training course so I can be satisfied that you will be a suitable employee for me."
"Yes, I agree!" was her desperately blurted response, without even enquiring as to what that involved.
After others had left our section of the office that afternoon I called Polly into my office.
"I've given the matter careful thought, Polly, but I've concluded that your behaviour and attitude are not acceptable. I have decided to terminate your services."
Polly burst into tears, "I need my wage to support my mother. I can't afford to start looking for alternative employment, especially if you don't give me a satisfactory reference."
"Polly," I said sternly, "if you wish to remain in my employment you will have to sign an obedience undertaking which includes a voluntary submission to whatever form of corporal punishment I deem appropriate, as well as other disciplinary measures which I may decide are needed in your particular case."
Without further discussion the forms of undertaking and submission (which I had conveniently to hand in a nearby "private and confidential" file) were duly executed.
"Empty the entire contents of your handbag onto my desk," I instructed.
"Why ..." she began to ask, but before she could finish the question I interrupted her.
"Rule number one is that you must do precisely as I instruct you. You must never question my instructions."
She said nothing further but looked at me intently as I began examining the items on my desk. Polly's handbag contained the normal sorts of junk that most women seem to cart around but two items in particular caught my attention. One was a plastic-handled hair brush which Polly used to keep her hair shiny and well groomed; the other was a partly frayed power cord from an appliance that Polly had meant to take in for repairs.
"Return all these items to your handbag," I directed, retaining two items which had interested me.
"Please sit on my desk with your legs dangling over the front facing me," I said still sitting in my office chair right in front of her.
She looked puzzled but readily complied. She was wearing a reasonably well tailored outfit with matching navy blue jacket and short skirt, with a crisp white blouse. Polly's blue eyes looked at me demurely as she sat with her knees properly together and her hands on each side of her resting on the edge of my desk. The gap formed between the taut skirt and her thighs was obscured by a sagging fold in the looser slip beneath. Her legs were clad in body coloured stockings and her shoes were polished leather appropriately colour matched to the balance of her outfit. She observed me with slight bemusement as I cast my eyes over her sitting before me.
"Well, now what?" she shrugged after about a minute's silence.
"Polly," I said sternly, "please listen carefully and do exactly as I tell you."
"OK," she responded, with just a hint of impatience in her voice.
"Your first task is to recite a list of what clothing you are wearing," I said, "so that I can determine your ability to accurately describe things."
"You can see what I'm wearing already - you've just been staring at me for 5 minutes," she shot back impudently.