Help Wanted

The Lustful Quality is spinning off - yet again. I've got a super, secret project i'm working on and need some assistance.

Consider this a call for the first ever TransformHer internship. Throughout the existence of this site, i've never really asked much from my readers. But, now i'm appealing to you directly. I am limited in my html/graphic design skills, and need someone who has some free time and interest in helping me with this project. I have concept ideas in my head, artwork that i've produced and other things already, i just need the right skills to set it in motion.

So, if there are any of you interested, please submit an e-mail (to: dominantdeity (at) gmail) and a brief description of your skillset (don't think i need to see resumes).

Request denied

Anyone who listens to the radio, watches the news on television, navigates to their counterpart websites or picks up a daily paper knows that the US economy is struggling. Faced with, for the first time, gas prices that are on average $4 a gallon (which, for our European counterparts is nothing compared to the $7+ per gallon they pay), the common American is feeling a pinch. Jobless rates are up. Inflation rose at an incredibly high rate over the past 6 months. The mortgage crisis continues to rear its menacing face throughout the country. Let us not forget to mention the weakening dollar, which exacerbates some of these issues. Clearly, Ma and Pa Yankee are grappling when it comes to their pocketbooks.

I knew things were bad, but i don't think i was aware of just how bad they are. For the past seven years, i have participated in the Regents' Internship Program with great enthusiasm. Around this time, we would've selected a candidate for the 3 month assignment, sent her off for training, and happily greeted her to her new desk and shiny new office supplies. Mid-March, i typically perform an inventory of tasks as yet incomplete or new projects that need a fresh pair of eyes. I give this list to my secretary, who in turn translates this into an assessment of our need for a set number of man hours to complete it, which then gets forwarded over to the Director of Human Resources. Based on the number we provide, a pool of candidates gets selected by their backgrounds, the focus of their college majors, and their skillsets, which are all pre-screened by my esteemed assistant.

March came and went, and a list of potential field hands never crossed my desk. I asked my secretary if she'd heard anything regarding the Regent candidates, indicating she had not, she immediately saw the larger ramifications of this. By mid-April, i became very (perhaps all told, overly) concerned when nothing such as a question regarding openings in my schedule for interviews came from upstairs. I took matters into my own hands and made a visit to the head of our HR. I asked if she'd received our laundry list of projects. She had. I asked if she had any questions about it. She didn't. Flummoxed by her nonchalance, i inquired with sharp-bladed precision whether or not we were going to be participating in the Regents' program this summer.

That was up in the air.

Two weeks ago, as if she were announcing the mundane news that a daisy in some Spanish meadow had lost a few petals, the HR Administrator casually informed me that our company would not be participating in the mentoring project.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Hardly."

"Why on earth would we not participate?"

"Have you seen the news about the economy?"

I wanted to yell out at her "What the hell does that have to do with this?" as she walked away from me, taking her dejecting attitude and painting it like a vandal all over the walls of our office. Apparently, because there are some tough financial times, we're not able to open our doors to young, underprivileged college students, offer them knowledge transfer about working in an office environment and pay them on the cheap.

Yes, i realize i am being an incorrigible brat about this. There are people out there for whom this downturn in the economy is impacting much deeper than this episode i describe. That i believe my company is using the economic turmoil as an excuse to pad poor decisions it made when it over-compensated the executive staff is honestly not the point.

I enjoy every stage of handling my interns. From interviewing the female-only group, and looking forward to their diligent allegiance to my dress code, to reviewing their typos in the inaugural memos i ask them to type. But most importantly, their presence, their raw, electric feminine life that comes and goes in such wistfully jubilant strides will be something that my summer will inherently lack. As it should be clear, i am a massive fan of the fairer sex, and spending these hot months cramped up in an office without my annual girl pageant is something i'm not quite prepared to handle.

Internal affairs - saying goodbye

Those who know me, understand my abject distaste for the heat, mugginess and sweating that arrives with the Solstice. Thankfully, i do not feel as though the dog day's ever arrived because the weather has not been arduous or unendurable. The fact that we've had a rather mild hot season out east, makes me considerably less irritated (and irritating). But, i would be remiss if i didn't also attribute the ease and comfort i've had during this most recent summer to the service provided me from, easily, the best intern in my entire tenure.

Her last week having just passed, i feel compelled to address her progress as a tribute to her. But i also face, which i tend to not remember when, in the spring, my cheeks fill with the ruddy excitement of beginning another internship program, the reality of saying goodbye to someone who had once served you. To others who do not relish this commodity, it may miss notice. For me, the corners of my mouth curl in a Seussian splendor when i feel that i am the focus of someone's labor.

*this continues on here

She delighted me nearly everyday, slithering more and more under my skin. What i saw as rigidity in the interview process, i was privileged to see soften as she grew more and more comfortable around me. AND...the girl could wear a skirt. Not like some ladies who toss them on as nods to their office protocol, or like mannequins stationed in a window whose immobile anatomies never warm the fabric and give it shape. She wore them like a flag wrapped around its pole in a summer breeze. She wore them like a ballet dancer wears a tour jete - flawlessly, effortlessly.

I take pride in the little impact i had on her overall prowess. I gave her a place where she could comport herself a certain way, and have an excuse for her reasons why. I enjoyed thinking of the social hours spent back at her local pub engaging her gaggle of twentysomething sex-in-the-cityers who demand to know why her hands were now a constant pageant of manicured art. She would roll her eyes and confess "It's a requirement for work." I removed her of a rather tragic habit of referring to herself or an action of hers as "stupid" - at my insistence, she was never allowed to use the word around me. I gave her the strength to enjoy her state of apprenticeship. So many moments of youth are spent anxious and impatient for growing up and excelling. I gave her an environment where she had plenty of opportunity to learn, but also a sense of accountability for when she made a mistake.

Of course, this reared its rather humorous, but unfortunately pungent side one time when she needed something from me at the end of the day. She had a habit of relying on the phone to communicate with me, rather than face-to-face. I was on a conference call for the better part of an hour, and several times throughout the call, i saw on my call-waiting that she was trying to get a hold of me. I ignored it. About a quarter to four in the afternoon, i heard a light rap on my door. Again, i ignored it. Shortly following, i saw on my call waiting that my secretary was trying to get through. These i never ignored.

"Yes?"

"K needs to speak with you for a moment."

*sigh* "Fine."

The door creaks open and in walks what looks like a brow-beaten version of my usually perky and adorable intern. She carries with her a folded piece of paper. I hold out my hand and she delicately places it in my palm. I unfold it as i let the chatter of my conference call go on in the background. What i read must've been easily the third or fourth draft of her message, because the wording is impeccable.

"Mr. D,
My mother has requested that i go and collect my younger brother from day camp. Would you be at all open to me leaving a tad early in order to do so?

"yes"___ or "no"___

Regards,
K

p.s. please do not widen your eyes or yell."

I chuckled as i held onto the note, waving her out of my office. The next day, i would, of course, commend her for asking first, but tell her that she could've asked my secretary, instead of trying to get through to me. This level of attempting to please i have not seen in an intern for several years. I know i will miss this energy.

I've said goodbye to several interns. I seldomly enjoy it. When i've taken on a soul i perceive as submissive, it is not an easy thing to release them back into the wild after such a short and specifically constrained period of time. I feel each of them has taken a part of me with them. Yes, part of that is my impact on them, but also their impact on me. I grow very attached, and knowing that tomorrow morning i will not see her eruditely cherubic face as i go trudging down the hallway or will not again get to hear her creative pronunciations of words (for example, at her farewell lunch, she proudly ordered the "Sall-mun"), it makes me a bit sad.

Right before she left on Friday, she came running into my office to say farewell and share with me some exciting news she learned from our HR department. She's been invited back for next summer's program, which means, as she puts it, i'll have her as an intern again.

"Lucky for you", i told her.

We hugged eachother goodbye, holding on longer than perhaps boss and employee should. I looked her in the eyes and told her she'll be fine.

I know she will be.

*this continues on here

Internal affairs - tweaking

The Summer has gone very well so far. The new intern, despite showing some signs of incompatibility in the early stages, has come around quite nicely. She has broken the dress code once, but has amazed me in other areas.

While i do require well-manicured hands, i do not insist that the nails be of any set length. I have felt that would prove too messy of an ordeal by actually having her set her hand on my desk as i measure each nail. Under different circumstances, i would require 1/2" at the least, flat-tipped, french manicure, but for my intern, i settle for cleanliness. Having never even mentioned that i prefer this look on females, i was quite surprised when one day my intern came in with a full set of 1/2" acrylic extensions.

She had to have noticed the way my eyes lit up the instant i caught sight of her new ornamentation. I immediately complimented her, told her that they made her fingers long and stunning. Later on that day, i went out to tell my secretary that i'd like some of the typing and filing i had given her to go to my intern, but she had anticipated that i would when she saw the nails, and had already given her some of it to do. She spoils me. I found reasons to linger by my intern's desk, telling her about projects i may involve her in, recounting some of the stupid questions i've been asked by journalists - all just so i could watch her struggle with the keyboard, and to hear the click of the acrylic on the keys.

One day soon after, she came into my office with tears in her eyes, holding her right hand by the wrist. I asked her what was wrong.

"I was filing...and...i closed the file - *sniff* - on my hand."

She held up the wounded appendage to show me that the nail on her middle finger had popped off in the ordeal. I wanted to get up from my chair, walk around the desk and scoop her up, kiss her finger, and tell her it will be "okay". But, i'm her boss. Even i know that wouldn't be appropriate in this day and age of over prescient human resource stiffs. I showed my concern with my eyes, and let her go home for the day so she could get her nail fixed.

Another recent episode reminded me that sometimes i don't fully comprehend the messages i'm capable of sending with just a look. I hadn't stepped out of my office all morning. Finally, i took a much needed break to very quickly jog to get me some water. I have a habit, as i walk, of rapidly snapping through all fingers, on both hands, in a cascade of rattling pops. To many people, it signals that i'm coming. I could see my intern's lounging legs (who sits right near the pantry) stiffen when their owner obviously heard my impending approach. I looked at her very briefly - 5 seconds tops - before i turned the corner. She was wearing a very unflattering yellow top that looked like it belonged in a "No Doubt" music video instead of my office. Since it didn't officially break my dress code, i decided not to say anything. I got my water, and headed back to my office. As i passed her desk, i didn't look at her at all.

About midday, i realized i hadn't heard or seen from her for a few hours. I called my secretary,"Have you seen K?"

"Not since about 10:30." It was a quarter after 1.

"Let me know when you see her again."

At 1:30, my secretary called. "She's back. She wants to see you." I can hear a sarcastic smile in her voice on the phone.

"...okay, tell her to come on in." Mind you, i do not require that she go through my secretary first in order to see me. I wait for the rap on my door. It is unusually soft.

"Come on in."

She peeks her head through the slight crack of the door she's opened.

"Am i in trouble?"

I scan my brain to locate any transgressions that i'd catalogued. Nothing. The only thing i can think of is the unannounced absence, but even then, i usually wait to hear the story behind those sort of things.

"Trouble for what?"

"You looked very angry this morning."

"Angry, no. Come in all the way, would you?"

She enters my office and i immediately see why she had been gone for so long. She is now wearing a very fetching maroon top, that outlines her curvy torso perfectly.

"Am i in trouble for being out of the office for so long?"

"Why were you gone for over 3 hours?"

"I went home to change my top."

This girl had taken my earlier glance at her blouse and the expression on my face as a statement, and decided to travel the hour and a half - one way - to her parent's house in order to fix the situation. I looked at her as she stood in front of me, her eyes were training on anything else but mine. I knew the silent air building was mine to dismiss. She subtly adjusted her skirt, and tugged a couple of times on her newly improved shirt.

"No," I said. "You're not in trouble, anymore."

Internal affairs

Every summer, the Director of HR comes down to tell me that i've (mysteriously) qualified once again for the annual Regents Internship Program, and that in the next few weeks, i'm to interview the list of candidates whose profiles met my seasonal needs. She will shyly wink at me as i inquire into the "quality" of the crop this year, assuring me that i will find several qualified applicants.

The following two weeks, my secretary will arrange interviews every afternoon from 2-4, wherein i will meet the various candidates who've among all of them, never had experience in an office or department like mine. My secretary, who i would know not what to do with my daily industry were it not for her diligent inspection and filtration of anyone who would try to get a moment of my time, has further whittled down the list to ensure that the right fit will be among them.

Every single person i interview, it should come as no shock, is female.

During each screening, I see a complete spectrum of red tones flushing their cheeks, a display of the various acrobatic skills their fingers have as they nervously twirl them on the conference table, but almost never the whites of their eyes. Out of the handful that i interview, one or two will stand out. They are the ones who tilt their head as they softly but with some grip to it, shake my hand, offering a smile that lifts my gravity up from my ankles. They laugh at my dry humor, and appropriately stifle a forced chuckle when i'm being absurd. They are the ones that stick in my mind, leaving me with an excitement at the idea that they might flit around my office all summer.

Once i've selected the one i want, i have my secretary draft letters to all who came in. Polite dismissals to those who didn't earn the position, and a detailed list of guidelines and expectations to the one who did. And yes, there is a run-down of the dress code i expect.

I do not mention the dress code at all beyond the correspondance they receive in the form of an offer letter, but, not a single intern in the last seven years has failed to comply. There have been those incidents where i know for a fact that the intern was testing my resolve, and i have had to send them home for the day as a result. Some have even gone home crying. But, they've always returned, and by the end of the summer, we've developed quite a deep and sincere rapport. A good handful of my past interns keep in touch with me even to this day (one flattered me two years ago by asking me to walk her down the aisle).

I provide them with an exposure to an office environment, especially one that deals with as diverse a cross-section as government officials, union representatives, stodgy accountants, and high-level management. But something tells me, that's not why i continue to have success with the interns i've selected over the years. There are those days where i will call her into my office, ask her to close the door and just sit in the chair as i work.

She knows why she's there, and so do i.

*this continues on here