Chapter 1
Roberta the Witch
So there I was, in a hotel room on Miami Beach, in bed naked with my boss, Roberta the Witch.
This was not the duty of an underpaid minion. I was exactly where I wanted to be, risking being decapitated by her thighs.
As I waited for her spasms to end I idly wondered how I came to be between her legs.
She was the head of an advertising agency and as ruthless a boss as any in the land. I was in the production end of her company overseeing print advertisement. It did not matter where you worked in her agency all had felt her wrath first hand. Our turnover was atrocious in every department.
Roberta Roberts, AKA The Witch had been a non-entity when she first took over the agency. People did little or no work under her supervision and did not suffer any consequences.
She had suddenly acquired a great interest in the workings of the agency and the more she learned the angrier she got. People were fired only to have their replacements fired. As the terror spread people resigned before she got to her evaluation of them. The agency was in utter chaos.
My mother had insisted that I treat all women as ladies even after I had proof they were not. Even though Ms. Roberta Roberts never acknowledged my courtesies I always held true to that charge.
Some of my colleagues though of it as kissing up to the boss but eventually admitted to themselves that I treated them with the same courtesies. There was no favoritism.
In fact they had all kidded me when I unconsciously extended the courtesies to Raul, our very effeminate artist. Raul loved it so I continued to do so.
Most of our office was female. I was a thirty-six year old, nearly handsome divorced father with a mother and a daughter living in my house. I went to the gym regularly and preferred business attire.
I had no intention of ever getting involved in a long-term relationship and concentrated in cultivating "friends with privileges."
In the midst of all the agency turmoil we were surprised to be nominated for a Clio for a sexy/comic lingerie ad that Raul and his assistants Cassie and Barb and I had put together. I was the nominal head of our section but that was only because I was the oldest of the group.
When Ms. Roberts came to our area of the office with the news she seemed to be somewhat stunned. We were even more stunned than she was when we heard it ourselves.
Hand shakes and backslaps later Cassie timidly asked if we were going to be able to go to the ceremonies.
Ms. Roberts was taken aback by the question. The others held back a gasp expecting an angry explosion from "The Witch."
What I saw was the face of someone that had never thought about it and further felt that she should have.
Looking at me directly she said, "We are all going. Make the arrangements. You will be my escort during the awards."
The others had been so happy that they did not catch her last line immediately.
As the their faces formed the question, "What?" Ms. Roberts turned to leave.
By the time my team started their un-merciful kidding I was at ease with the idea.
I had seen her flustered blush as Ms. Roberts marched away. I thought she might actually want my company during the awards.
When my co-workers learned of my fate every time I walked into a room someone would say, "Dead man walking."
Roberta Roberts was in her early forties. She was tall, elegant, and graceful. She had been a model and most of her external beauty was intact. She was beautiful until you had to deal with her.
I had researched her background when she became my boss and learned that she had married an oil executive and lived the charmed life for several years. Inevitably as she aged her career slowed.
Her modeling career ended the day she was offered the part of the mother in an ad campaign. The "daughter" part had been awarded to a new teenage sensation. Roberta declined and spent the next year drinking herself into a stupor.
Her husband bought her the agency to get her out of the house. Her incompetence made the agency and her irrelevant.
Her epiphany came when photos of her husband and a young model started to appear in industry magazines. The model looked just like Roberta had fifteen years earlier.
Everyone had forgotten about her, even her husband. She stopped moping and became angry. She sued for divorce and got a very, very substantial settlement.
Every one assumed that when she got her money she would get rid of the agency but she was determined to prove people wrong about her. She set out to learn what everyone's job was at the agency and tried to do the job better that they could. As soon as she was confident she knew how an ad agency was supposed to work she began firing two thirds of the staff.
Everyone that had treated her with disrespect was fired. Everyone that treated his or her job with disrespect was fired. There were several phantom workers on her payroll, people that had never shown up for work. Their paychecks stopped and investigators were hired to see who those people were.
When it was my turn to meet with her in her office I was mentally prepared to be fired even though I thought it was unlikely since I was her date in Florida.
I had also always treated her as a lady and a boss so I was confident that attitude would not be the reason.
I was, however, in my mid-late thirties with very little time in the business. I had been the last hire of the previous owner.
As soon as I sat across her desk she started on a long, angry tirade on what she had found as she evaluated the agency and its personnel. She was so loud that the woman in the outer office waiting to be interviewed after me scribbled her resignation on a piece of paper and left.
My mother also told me to be a good listener, taught me to read body language. In less than ten seconds I was able to drop my defenses and concentrate on the information I was receiving.
I realized my job was safe, Ms. Roberts was venting.
Most of the names that flew out in her rage were of people she had already fired. As she calmed Ms. Roberts confessed her need to succeed. Finally she fell silent and leaned back on her chair with a sigh.
