LN and I are not particularly traditional people; not in our choices, our lifestyles, or our beliefs.  Therefore, when the upper management at our shitty job decided to arrange an Open Doors Day – to invite all the employees with families to bring their husbands, wives, babies, children, moody teenagers to the office to introduce them to the shitty ways they spend their day – we decided to fuck with it a bit.

 

Needless to say, we don’t have husbands, wives, babies, children, or moody teenagers, but we felt it was somewhat discriminatory to be left out, just because we choose to fill our lives with bananas, with art, travel and commitment-free sex.  It was then that LN came upon a magnificent idea: we would pick up some random men from a bar and bring them along, preferably drunk.

 

We profiled our perfect picks: they should be tall (so as to be able to look down on people), impossibly handsome (for obvious reasons), rich would be a bonus (so they could say things like: “Oh, this looks a bit like my office in San Fran, but smaller, and uglier.”), and most of all they should make it very obviously, at every opportunity, just how much they worshiped and adored us for being the most luminous women they have ever had the luck to meet randomly in a bar (thus making it clear to everyone, just how below us this shitty job really is).

 

After carefully putting together the specification, we made a list of the places we might be to meet these unicorn-men.  We decided upscale business hotels in the centre of our city would be a good start.  We planned outfits: not too Pretty Women, not too Miss Moneypenny, we set the date in our diaries, we were ready to go.

 

Then the shitty management at our shitty job did the shittiest thing imaginable: they cancelled the Open Doors Day, due to lack of interest.

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