The force of nature blew past me with the anger and intensity of a level-five hurricane. The storm’s name is Ms. Pouvoir, the tyrannical Vice President of Marketing. Unlike most storms, no first name or other signs of disrespect were tolerated. She commanded veneration. The gale-force winds of her thundering past my desk ruffled the papers from their required orderly place. “My office, now,” she commanded without a glance...

The refrain of Lady Gaga’s song Teeth suddenly brought my phone to life on my nightstand with an incoming call. The screen lit up with the name of my former boss, Ms. Pouvoir. I didn’t expect her call for another twenty minutes. She was more desperate than I expected. The wide blue eyes of my petite, naked blond neighbor Brittany looked up at the sound of the interruption. “Don’t stop,” I ordered. The corners of her mouth...

I walked into my former boss, Ms. Pouvoir’s office without a knock or permission at 1:00. Her body immediately tensed at the affront someone would enter her domain without explicit permission, even though our appointment had been set an hour earlier. “Close the door,” she ordered without a glance up in my direction, looking busy with something more important on her laptop screen. I ignored her command, leaving the door wi...