11
I wake up with a peaceful mind, then I face the day.
“You're kidding me right now … after asking me to promote breast milk and running off in your own direction with that ad, you want me to advertise toilet paper now?"
“I believe that is the assignment I gave you," Mick says. I want to say this is a punishment for the downfall of his relationship with Minnie Mouse, but I assume I won't find out how that turned out.
“Awesome, I'll try not to make the ad too dry. We don't want chafing."
“Is that a joke?" Mick questions. I stare at him with wonder because he's dense. “We have a staff meeting in fifteen minutes to discuss the toilet paper promotion. Be there."
“Or be square, like toilet paper," I jest.
“What?"
“Never mind." I take the paperwork back to my desk and sit down with it, ready to mull over some catchy phrases about toilet paper.
I place the tip of my pen against my notepad as an idea trickles through me.
Is your bottom wiped out from the poor quality tissue? Well, perk up, toots because Pheather Ply is durable, soft, and will leave your chapped thoughts behind.
Eh, I can come up with something better.
Dirty rear? Clean it up with Pheather Ply's long lasting durable tissue.
We'll get another lawsuit for that one.
If you're already seated on a porcelain throne, make sure you're using Pheather Ply, made of high-quality cotton threads to offer your fanny the real royal treatment.
Or maybe stick it to them straight with:
When the job is number two, Pheather Ply is your number one go to.
Pheather Ply wipes out the competition.
I'm pulling these out of my ass now. Those morons won't even know what's coming at them in this meeting. With my phone in hand, plus my handy notebook with million dollar ideas, I head over to the conference room. The second I take a seat, my phone buzzes. Based on the words I see on the display, Layla is trying to continue the date argument from this morning.
Layla:I swear this will be the last one. He's an attorney. It won't be bad.
Me:Are you out of your goddamn mind right now? That douchery from last night could have been a serial killer for all you know, and you are hell bent on torturing me again?
Layla:Please, Mads, I had already arranged this one before yesterday's debacle, and I might have spent a little of the money paid for tonight's date.
Feeling livid doesn't describe my anger with her at this point. She has no self-control, business ethics, or respect for me.
Me:No, Layla. Why don't you go out with this perfect attorney tonight?
Layla:There's a clause in the agreement form which states, I, the owner of the company, cannot sub for any missing dates.
Me:You downloaded the agreement form somewhere and changed the names, didn't you?
Layla:Please, I will make you dinner, clean all the dishes, clean your room, take the trash out, and bring you a lunch for the next whole week if you say yes, only this one last time.
“Let us all know when you're done chatting on your phone," Mick announces as he takes a seat across from me. I drop my phone, face down onto the table, worried more of Layla's texts will pop up.
“So, toilet paper, huh?" I ask with laughter growing in volume. I think it's important to start my thoughts on the campaign, even if it's only a show of laughter. They all had a good laugh the other day with the subject of breast milk. I know how sensitive their tushies must be to toilet paper, so it's only fair to share my humor on the subject.
“Pleather Ply is a multi-million dollar corporation with a high-end resale value because of the triple ply thickness of its material."
