Our performance last night was atrocious. You figure that a group of professionals would go out there and give it their all for a team. I’m not saying that fealty is necessary, but I’d expect some measure of effort and interest in your job.
No head was given last night at the company party, Kara. Why? We gave you all the Miller Lite, Absolut, and Yellowtail Shiraz a slut like you would love. Maybe if you spent less time inhaling burnt grapes and purified impurities and more time inhaling Dale Tallon, we wouldn’t be in this mess.
This is an important step in a woman’s career. Some won’t suck dick because they don’t want to ruin their lipstick. My corner office was miles away from the rest of the group, but you were too prudish to leave the group. Oh, I’m sorry, princess. Did you want to look respectable when you rejoin the rest of your coworkers at the office party? That’s a lot of pride for someone with a communications degree from Whorestate University. How do you think Maureen in accounting got that extra bonus? By balancing the books? Fuck no. She cried for cum, and Savoir-Faire splooged everywhere! You have to get a load on your face to get rewarded at the end of the night.
I think you forgot last summer or two summers ago or three summers ago when we gave you that $20000 contract. We committed to you. Well, commit to my penis. Commit to the testes. Commit to the dingleberries here. Commit to the head. If you don’t want to commit, there’s a lovely streetcorner in the Black Belt that accepts women of all kind. Be careful, the Chicago winters are slightly chilly.