Just Another Day at the Office My secretary is the world's biggest tease. She insists on being called an "administrative assistant" and this truly is a more accurate description of the nature of her job. I still call her my secretary because it pisses her off. Carla is about 5'7" and has thick black hair that hangs down to her shoulders. Sometimes she wears it in a frizzy perm and other times in soft gentle curls. She has big dark eyes and long lashes . She can get anything she wants with her smile and she knows it. She has a body that bespeaks several hours a week of aerobics and the stairmaster. If she wasn't so good at her job my partner and I would have fired her long ago. Carla has evolved from secretarial work to administrative assistant in a very short time. I have gotten to the point where I actually encourage her creative input. She also has a talent for flirting that is truly exceptional and she seems to know exactly how far she can go with any given man. I hate to admit it but she has gotten us a lot of business with this skill. I am part owner of an advertising agency. We produce commercials for the local television station for businesses here in town. This is a stressful business that requires one to think creatively under enormous pressure. This pressure sometimes leads to behavior that is somewhat less than mature. Take our annual practical joke war. Each year in the springtime Carla and I play a series of practical jokes on one another involving a common theme. Two years ago the theme was plastic spiders (she didn't speak to me for a week after I hid a real tarantula in her desk drawer) and last year it was water. The water war was fun. It started with small squirt guns and the standard water bucket on top of the door gag and ended at a lawn party with both of us fully clothed in my neighbors swimming pool. I thought long and hard about this year's theme and decided to approach the subject in a way that would appeal to Carla yet not make her so mad she would quit her job. Susan, my partner, would kill me if that happened. Each year we all go out to lunch at our favorite restaurant during secretaries week. (We call it "Carla Appreciation Week" at our office.) I volunteered to make the reservation this year. I went to the restaurant the day before and explained to our waitress what I had in mind. Her eyes got big and she said, "Are you sure you want me to do this?" When I said yes she said "I'm going to enjoy this more than your secretary!" So the next day we're sitting at the table in the restaurant waiting for Carla to finish her cigarette (this is one of the many ways she gets back at me for calling her a secretary) . As usual, Susan and Carla were dressed at exactly opposite ends of the spectrum. Susan was wearing a perfectly tailored business suit while Carla was wearing a black leather vest over a white blouse and her tightest jeans. The waitress came to our table carrying a dozen roses which she ceremoniously handed to Carla. I said, "Carla, Susan and I just want to thank you for being such a great secretary." The waitress picked up a large cream pie from a nearby dessert cart and pushed it into my face. She twisted the pie slowly back and forth and said, "She's not a secretary she's an administrative assistant you moron!" I could hear Carla howling with laughter along with everyone in the restaurant.. Everyone but Susan, that is. I let the pie slowly drop into my lap and looked over at them. Carla was still laughing uncontrollably while Susan's face had the pained expression it always has when she thinks Carla and I are acting childish. Susan is your typical Nordic ice-queen. She has long blond hair, high cheekbones, a small perfectly turned up nose, and impossibly deep blue eyes. She also has no sense of humor at all. Needless to say, she handles all of the financial aspects of our business while Carla and I handle the creative part. I wiped some of the pie off my face and said, "So what do you think our theme for this year's practical joke war should be?" "You've got to be kidding!" said Susan. "I think it's a great idea!" said Carla as she drew her finger across my face and tasted it. "What kind of pie is that? It's perfect for plastering someone." "Buttercreme frosting. Just go down to Carol's bakery on Fifth street and tell her I sent you." We both agreed wear clothes that we didn't mind getting pie on for the next two weeks. Susan also made us agree not to hit each other with pies while our clients were in the office. Carla and I both rolled our eyes at this request. The next day Carla and I watched each other very carefully and Susan watched us both with a mixture of disdain and amusement. Carla was wearing a black blouse and a tight black leather skirt. I always watch her carefully when she wears that outfit. Later that afternoon, as I was coming out of the copy room I noticed Carla putting on her black leather gloves and jacket as she left the building. I rushed into the office and grabbed the pie I brought. I quickly went out the door Carla always takes when she goes on a cigarette break and sure enough, there she was, standing with her back to me telling a group of people about our "pie war". I snuck up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and I slowly pushed the pie into her face and held it there. I said, "Okay folks, how many of you think Carla is way over matched in this contest of wits?" This resulted in a chorus of applause and laughter. I released the pie and Carla stood there with her hands at her sides and listened to everyone laughing while the pie slowly slid down her face. Then she took a puff on her cigarette and said, "Very good. I can see I'm up against a pro here." Carla left before I did that day and as I walked to my car I congratulated myself on outsmarting her on the first day. I got in my car and just before I turned the key I got a pie in the face. Carla held it there and spoke directly into my ear. "You should always check your back seat before you get in a car. You never can tell who might be hiding back there." She got out of my car and said, "See you tomorrow sweetie" This went on for a week. One of the best times I got her was while she was on the phone. She was talking away while staring out the window. I snuck up behind her and waited for her to finish talking. She was saying something like, "Okay, I've gotta get back to work ... Ohhh " as she turned to get a facefull of buttercreme frosting. "No, I'm allright. Remember that pie in the face thing I was telling you about? Well, I just got one right in the kisser..." . She sat there with the phone in her ear and her face up turned so that the pie just sat there. "How does it feel? It feels like a facial with crust. You should try it sometime." I squeezed her shoulder and left, laughing. One night right after I got home from work there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and there was a beautiful blonde in a cheerleader outfit. "Hi, my name is Shelly and I'm selling cookies for my cheerleader squad." "That's great, what kind do you have?" I asked. She quickly took a pie from behind her back and let me have it. "Oh, wait. Actually I'm selling pies. I can never get that straight." she said while she twisted the pie back and forth. I could hear Carla giggling in the background. "That's not fair," I protested. "You can't let other people hit me!" "Okay. Here." Carla pushed a pie into my face while the blonde laughed. Well two can play that game. The next day Carla put on her long black leather trench coat and left the building for her afternoon smoke break. She sensed something was wrong as soon as she stepped out the door. "Why aren't any of you smoking?" she asked. She quickly turned around to check behind her. There was no one there. As she turned back around one of her fellow secretaries gave her a pie in the face. This was quickly followed by one on either side of her head. I emerged from the building just in time to put one on top of her head. She stood there in stunned silence while everyone had yet another laugh at her expense. I ceremoniously drew my finger across her face and tasted it. "Allright, breaktime's over. Don't you have some filing or typing to do?" Carla tentatively touched her hair with her gloved fingers and winced noticeably when she realized what a mess she was. "I don't know how yet, but I'm going to top this," she said. The next few days were uneventful since we were in the process of negotiating for a series of commercials for one of the biggest auto dealers in town. We would all be significantly wealthier if we won this account. We decided to close the deal at our usual restaurant over lunch. In addition to the money, I was really hoping to get this account because the client, Amanda Jacobs, has an excellent sense of humor. I just knew she would really appreciate the funny commercials Carla and I could come up with. As it turned out, old Amanda had a better sense of humor than I realized. After lunch we presented Amanda with the contract and she announced, "Everything looks great but before I sign there is one small service I want you partners to provide to demonstrate the depth of your commitment." Susan and I looked at each other and then Amanda with no small amount of suspicion. Then I noticed that Carla had stood up and was motioning to our waitress who was wheeling a dessert cart loaded with pies to our table. "If you want me to sign this contract you're going to have to let Carla and I give each one of you four pies in the face or wherever we deem appropriate," Amanda said. "Carla and I have been holding some additional negotiations that we decided not to tell you about." Susan groaned. I said, "Good one Carla. I'm going to have to concede victory here." "You can't be serious," said Susan. "Trust me Susan, I've never been more serious," Amanda said with equal parts conviction and bitchiness. Then she picked up a pie and said, "I'm going to count to three ..." "Allright, allright I'll do ohhhhh..." was all Susan got out before Carla pushed a pie into her upturned, disbelieving, pretty face,. "I've been wanting to do that for 3 years!" Carla said as she slowly twisted the pie back and forth. The restaurant erupted in loud cheers and laughter. "Amanda, I'll really owe you one if you let me give her the next pie," I implored. "Yeah, I think he deserves this," said Carla as she handed me a pie. "If you do that I'll never speak to you again," snapped Susan. "Promises, promises," I laughed and then I carefully plastered her hair. Amanda took over and gave her the other two pies, taking great care to get as mush as possible on Susan's business suit. "Now it's your turn sweetie," said Carla, holding up a pie. I stood up and gave her a long kiss, "Lemme have it, partner!" Carla stopped, "You mean it?" I looked at Susan. "Is that okay with you, Susan?" Susan looked up at us wearily under several ounces of frosting and a ruined business suit and said, "Sure, why not. I've already got one immature loon for a partner, why not have two?" That was the last civil thing she said to either of us for a month. -------------------------------------- Back to Shokolada's Messy Stories archive (http://chocmess.com/splosh/messyarc.htm)