Mad Heifer From Upscale Suburban Hell- The Boss to Turn you off From the 9-5 Forever

My entry for the Mad Cow Heifer contest hosted by @carolkean

The wretched hag hid beneath two hundred extra pounds of fat that did nothing but smooth out the wrinkles etched from years of disdain. The poufy cheeks were a poor disguise for the cesspool of drama laden filth foaming below the surface.

I fell for it, just as others had before me. Sickly sweet, caring about me. You matter.

Oh yeah, I mattered. As long as I made her money and brought her men. Not necessarily in that order of importance.

She liked them young. Young, virile, naïve and poor. Boys she could shape and mold, if only for a night. They may have been inexperienced but they worshipped her as a poor boy toy should worship the second richest woman in town.

Fueled by booze and the promise of a new tattoo, the brown-nosed young men would glow under her affections.

I mistakenly believed I was hired for my talent.

Dalay is what we imagined the popular girls would end up like, having peaked in HS.

“Kitten” she slurred, gin oozing from her pores, “who do you want to date, Jay or Chase?”

“Neither. You know I don’t date clients.”

“But ith yoo had to chuus, you havta pick one!”

I turned my head to breathe. I remained silent, hoping her short memory would scamper elsewhere.

“Kitten! Kitten I love yoo. Oh Kitten. Fine, give me one. I want Jay. Hees sooo cute and liddle. Chase is no cute, jes big.”

“I can’t give you what isn’t mine. You can have either. Hell, take ‘em both.”

“Kitten, you’s sumthin else. I give you job. Good job. You have all the guys comin in cuz yoo here an you don eeven pick one. Aaand you ungrateful. I give you a job and you need to give me the boys. Thas all I wan. Jes bring Dalay da boyz!”

I was hired for two things apparently. To give her half my earnings and to be her personal wingman. Part of my job requirement was to stay late on Friday and Saturday nights and escort Dalay to the bars and play wingman. I did not get paid for these services.

Things got heated between us one night after I’d had one too many drinks and told her I was not going to help her cheat on her husband, who, incidentally, signed my paychecks. And was a really nice guy. I told her she was on her own.

I was fired the next day. After spending my day off on the waterfront with my kids, I put them to bed and logged onto facebook. I was fired. My wall was filled with her venom. Post after post. I had to be placed in the Internet Protection Program. She kept creating new accounts.

She wasn’t finished. I went to get my things and found them destroyed. My final paycheck was written to the wrong name. It took two weeks and threats to send her hubby photos of her and her boy toys to get paid.

I have not worked for someone since.

Names have been changed to protect your favorite Arbitrary Kitten from further terror and abuse.

Images via Creative Commons, Pexel, and Giphy

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