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WARNING: This story contains graphic scenes of talking heads,
references to deviant (but extremely entertaining) sex acts, and
references which certain humorless feminist (and other) types
will hopefully find offensive.


Cyndi walked into the mahogony office, the person in charge of wheeling
visitors in on a hand cart being on break, and shook hands with
Mr. Winternesse.  "Good afternoon, Ms. Cannon," he said.  "I'm
glad you were able to come in and discuss our Executive Slave
program.  Your background is exactly what we look for in a
candidate."

"Thank you," she said.  "I've heard very good things about the
program from others who've been through it.  All very successful
people, I might add, and they swear that they owe it all to the
Executive Slave program."

"Yes.  There's not another corporate program -- and I'm including
the coop programs at even the top universities -- that provides
the scope of ours.  You'll get a solid grounding in all aspects
of the business, along with earning an M.B.A., plus an
unparalleled opportunity to develop the invaluable skill of
executive ass-kissing."

"I understand the program is very exclusive.  What are my chances
of getting in?"

"Oh, excellent.  In fact, we may have a superb opportunity for
you.  Our CEO, Mr. Windmill, will be needing a new executive
slave within the next month.  His current slave is graduating
from the program and" -- his permanent smile dimmed a trifle --
"taking a position as CFO with a rival firm.  In any case, the
CEO is heterosexual, and very partial to long dark hair and large
breasts."

"I wondered about that.  Don't you have problems about sexual
discrimination in this program?"

"Not really.  If we meet our EOE goals for executive positions,
the numbers for the Executive Slave program work themselves out
quite nicely.  Although we do have a great deal of difficulty
recruiting from certain minority groups."

"I can imagine.  So you think I have a good chance at being Mr.
Windmill's Executive Slave?"

"I should think so, although of course Mr. Windmill will make the
final decision.  Based on your background, it's virtually certain
that you'll be accepted into the program if you want it.  Mr.
Windmill will choose from the available candidates, as will the
other executives whose slaves are leaving.  How much do you know
about the requirements for the position?"

"I've heard a good deal, but I'd like to hear it from you."

"You know, of course, that this is an unpaid position?"

"Yes.  So I won't be a wage slave, at least."

"No.  Even so, we have five times as many candidates as we can
accept."

"I'm very flattered that you're considering me, then."

"That's a very good attitude, but it isn't necessary to butter me
up.  Save it for Mr. Windmill.  One of the things you'll learn in
the program is how to know which ass to kiss.  Now, as I say,
there is no salary attached to the position, but your tuition
to graduate business school will be paid by the company, and
you'll be expected to receive your M.B.A. in two years, six
months before the end of the program.  Failure to complete
your studies on time will result in punishment."

"I've heard."

"You'll notice that I don't reprimand you for interrupting.  An
Executive Slave may interrupt to ask a question or challenge a
business decision at any time.  But never, ever question or
disobey a direct order."

"I understand."

"You will be given time to attend classes, but the rest of your
time will be spent with Mr. Windmill (I'm assuming here that he
accepts you.)  Between homework and attending to Mr. Windmill
business and personal needs, you are likely to have very, very
little time to yourself."

"I understand."

"Do you?  You will eat with him, sleep with him, shower with him,
make love to him, go to meetings with him, take notes for him.
If he takes a leak, you'll hold his penis for him."

"Do I wipe his behind for him, too?"

"No.  There are some things a man must do for himself, although
one or two of our executives may need help finding the spot.  You
will, however, check to make sure there's enough toilet paper.
If he plays golf, you'll caddy for him.  You'll act as his
sounding board, stroke his ego, and help relieve his stress.  Are
you aware of what that may entail?"

"I've heard things."

"The CFO of our firm has a bullwhip hanging on the wall of her
office.  She uses it on her ES -- that's Executive Slave -- about
once a week."

"That was one of the things I'd heard."

"Mr. Windmill prefers to administer spankings on the bare
buttocks with a wooden spoon.  You understand that you need not
deserve a spanking in order to receive one?  If the V.P. of
Marketing deserves a good spanking -- and I can think of no one
who would benefit more from one -- then you will get it, not he.
One does not spank the executives of the corporation, however
much they may deserve it."

"I understand.  I think I can handle it."

"Excellent.  We like to see highly motivated individuals in our
organization.  Now, as I was saying, you will spend virtually
every hour of your time in the program with Mr. Windmill, except
for what you spend in class.  When he doesn't need you, you'll be
chained to a desk outside his office, literally, with your books
and a word processor."

"I understand.  Are there any other requirements?"

"Well, under certain circumstances you may be required to meet
with and entertain customers or creditors of the firm."

"You mean to have sex with them?"

"Certainly not.  We don't do business that way.  Your job would
merely be to stall an irate customer, creditor or IRS auditor
long enough for Mr. Windmill to get out of the office -- or out
of town, if need be."

"I see."

"One more thing, and this is specific to the job as Mr.
Windmill's ES.  Mr. Windmill meets with the board of directors
every quarter.  You would be expected to attend along with him,
of course, and to dress as provocatively as possible.  You would
take notes and make coffee and so on, but your primary reason for
being there would be to distract the board members from -- why,
Ms. Cannon, where on earth are you going?"

"Look, I don't know what kind of bimbo you think you're dealing
with here, but I don't make coffee for *anybody*."

Slam.  The end.

DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed above are no one's.  It's
only a story, and should not be confused with a Harvard Business
School Case Study.  The company in question resembles nowhere
I've ever worked, although most companies have one or two V.P.s
who ought to be spanked.

CLAIMER: Copyright 1991, Patrick D. Scannell

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