Gunty’s Visit

Today wasn’t fun, or more accurately put, it was worse than most days. The Buffoon’s boss came by today. She is a white-haired older lady, whose skeletal structure is carrying 2.5 times the weight it was designed to support. Her size causes her to walk in limp-like fashion and she has an awful haircut. I call her Gunty due to the enormous protrusion of her pelvic region. Her visits are never enjoyable, considering she is our sales manager and our sales are virtually non-existent.

I understand her position, so I understand what she has to do. What I detest is the manner with which she goes about doing her job. Today, for instance, she’d apparently thought up a crafty new strategy to use during our one-on-one. Instead of keeping things on the level, she opted to go wise-ass psychologist on me.

“You don’t like this job, do you?” she asked with a smugness rippling down her chin, her tone doused with sarcasm.

“You’re extremely insecure about your weight, aren’t you?” is how I wanted to reply, but I presently don’t have that option in my life.

“You can tell me. Do you really like what you’re doing?” she went on. Every comment was overly facetious so as to eliminate any chance of confusion. She knew I didn’t give a shit and this was just a good opportunity for her to bully that point a little.

There wasn’t much I could say in return. My only real option was to play dumb and give my best canned, company-man response. Inside I was fuming. She could have done this the respectable way, but she chose to be snide about it. She would love for me to say, “You know, you’re right. This just isn’t for me”, but of course I can’t say that, I need this job and she knows that. She knows that if I had any other option, I’d have quit already. She knows I don’t like this job, but that I need it, and that’s given her a safe scenario to jab and bully me just a little.

I’m not sure what she could honestly expect? Who the fuck would like this job? The pay is shit, the hours are shit, its boring as shit and my boss has shit for brains. Its high pressure sales but with minimal commissions and incentives? Why the fuck would anyone like this? I know her strategy is to get under my skin a little bit. It would make her job a lot easier if I provided an opening to her “maybe you should do something else” speech. After all, this whole meeting is her thinly veiled attempt to get me to quit, so she won’t have to go through the uneasiness of firing me.

As we sat and slogged through our discussion, my concentration weakened and my focus began to drift. I was forced to notice that the seat of her chair was positioned unusually high, thus causing her fat upper pussy area to rest against the table edge like a backstop. While she droned on about my lacking sales numbers and continued to question my commitment, I contemplated whether I could one-hop my pen off her protrusion and back onto my notepad and wondered when was the last time she had seen her own poon. As the minutes ticked away, my prior rage waned and I just thought about the conversation ending. She made a few more back-handed comments while I sheepishly answered and fantasized about spitting on her.

When we were done, she had the gall to get chatty with me, asking what I liked to do outside of work. Somewhere in my response I mentioned baseball and she commented that she used to be a big softball player. Imagining this heavy lady who’d just tooled me around for an hour batting clean up with her Fantastic Sam’s haircut put a slight smile on my face. When she said she had been a catcher, I nearly giggled and it kind of put me back in a good mood.