It was my first full-time job after leaving school and it was boring. If it was a colour it would be dung brown because the work was just crap. Quite honestly, I didn't put too much effort into it. It was a case of why bother? Go to work and collect your pay while looking for a better job elsewhere.
After I'd been there for a couple of weeks I was invited to go and see the manager. Not my personal supervisor, but the Manager, with a capital M, my boss's boss. I went along to the interview, trying to think of what I might have done wrong. Unfortunately, I quickly came to the conclusion that it was a rather long list.
"You see unhappy working here, Marion," was the first thing the Manager said to me. "Do you want to resign?"
Oh my god, I was going to be fired. This was a disaster. There just wasn't any work available right now and I liked getting a pay check.
"No, sir," I said quickly. "I'm quite happy here." (For a very low definition of happy, anyway.)
"Hmm. Your supervisor has pointed out that you seem to be having a few problems settling into a routine."
I sighed and admitted that I found most of the work boring in the extreme. I wanted to do more of the interesting work.
The Manager nodded sympathetically, saying he quite understood.
"Still," he said, "someone has to do the boring work. Some of these things aren't really tasks that you would assign to senior staff members, now are they? What would you suggest we do?"
It was a classic case of disengage brain, open mouth, insert foot.
"Um, you could always hire someone to do the boring work," I said brightly.
The Manager nodded thoughtfully while he looked at me.
"We did," was all he said.
Oh. That was me.
"Are you going to fire me?" I asked in a very small voice.
"No. If I was going to fire you we wouldn't be having this chat. You'd just be told not to come back. Your supervisor considers you to have potential, but I'm afraid where you're concerned it includes doing the boring jobs."
That was essentially it for the interview. Basically I was being warned to pull my finger out or get out. I was polite and contrite and promised to try harder.
I did try harder, but most of the work was still boring and I guess I was dragging my feet a little. I was a few minutes late to work several times, not that it really mattered in my books. Then came the night of the party. I don't normally party during the week but we were having a baby shower for a friend and we all got a bit carried away. It's possible that I might have had just a wee bit too much where alcoholic beverages were concerned.
I slept through the alarm and woke up hungover. I was a total shambles getting ready for work and I was decidedly on the late side when I did turn up, full of apologies for my supervisor.
"The Manager wants to see you," he told me, his voice showing his annoyance with me. "Not now. After work."
Hell and damnation. I was going to be fired, I just knew it. That fear, combined with the remains of the hangover, and having to rush around to catch up on my work, made for one very miserable day for me. Man, I just couldn't afford to get fired. I needed my salary.
After work I went and saw the Manager. I got straight into grovelling. Sorry I was so late. I wasn't feeling well. It won't happen again. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
"If you were genuinely ill we wouldn't expect you to come to work," pointed out the Manager. "Exactly what was wrong with you?"
"I attended a baby shower for a friend last night. I guess I had a drink too many and I woke up late with a hangover," I confessed. Might as well be honest. Lying would probably just get me in deeper.
"Uh-huh," grunted the Manager. "Do you really want to work here? You're free to leave at any time, you know. This is the second time we've had a little chat. That sort of inclines me towards accepting your resignation."
Talk about instant panic. I need this job. Besides, I'm learning things here and I'll get a chance to move up. I can't get fired. I can just see me having an interview for another job. "Why did you leave your last employment?" "I got fired for coming in hungover." "I see. Don't call us. We'll call you."
"Give me another chance, please," I grovelled. "I'll try harder. I have been learning. The party last night was an unusual event. I don't normally go to parties when the next day is a work day. Please."
"I have to admit I'm somewhat disappointed in you. Like I said, we think you have potential, but you seem determined to waste it."
"I do try," I protested. "It's just that I feel Mr Angra is never satisfied, no matter what I do."
"Mr Angra would be happier as a slavedriver with a whip," I added soto voce.
Unfortunately not soto voce enough. The Manager must have had ears like a bat and he heard me.
"Actually," the Manager said dryly, "Mr Angra agrees with both of us. He feels that you have potential if you'd only apply yourself properly. He also suggested it would be a good idea to make you a slave so he'd be authorised to beat some common sense into you."
"He wouldn't dare touch me," I stated, glaring at the Manager.
He was laughing at me, damn him. His face was straight but I could see the laughter in his eyes.
"What you say is quite true. He's a bit too mousey to beat an employee," agreed the Manager. "But I would. What would you say if I made your continued employment subject to you being spanked? You do seem to have earned one."
"You wouldn't fire me just because I object to getting a spanking, would you?" I asked him, appalled.
"Probably not," he said thoughtfully. "But are you willing to take the chance?"
Holy crap. He was serious. I was horrified. Would he really fire me if I didn't let him spank me? I couldn't decide. I was almost gnawing on my knuckles in my agitation. I finally came down on the side of common sense.
"No. You wouldn't fire me for not submitting to a spanking," I stated firmly.
"Quite right, I wouldn't, but you did seem a little uncertain for a while. All right, I'll give you another chance. However, I don't want to have to speak to you again about your work performance unless it's to tell you that you're doing a good job."