Dear Grumpy Horrible Boss, You suck as a lawyer. I don't even know how you passed the bar. Or how you sleep at night taking clients like Jack Whittington. Just in case you didn't know, you can't fire me just because I have a part-time job working bachelor parties. What I do on the weekend is none of your business and not a part of my employment contract. If I want to go back to wearing coconut bikinis and popping out of cakes, I can. As soon as I get my big break as an actress, I will be leaving your employ. I am literally counting down the days. You must be dreaming if you think I'm going to be working from 6 am to 9 pm for the next month just so you won't report me to HR. Go ahead and report me. See if I care, Mr. Wannabe hotshot playboy lawyer. You're not that hot, and I do not want you. Also, stop emailing me at night with lists of to-dos. Your not-very-well-paid assistant, Lila Haversham Lila, I hope you can count to infinity because that's how many more days you're going to be working for me. If your acting is as good as your dancing, you're not going to be making it anytime soon. Five words of advice: Don't quit your day job. Your very well-paid and handsome boss, Max Spector P.S. You've been given a new phone, so we can communicate via text instead of email. Or, if you'd rather, we can communicate from my bed. I'd rather not christen that blowup mattress again. P.P.S. I think your actions in the shower at the gym tell another story about how much you do or do not want me... care to drop the soap again?
