Christmas Parties Are Expensive

Bernard Morton liked his new assistant. He liked her quite a bit. Mindy was attractive, bright and made one hell of a good cup of coffee. She was a huge improvement over his last seven administrative assistants. Mainly because she did what she was told to do, no questions asked. Well, a few questions but not too many. Bernard liked that too. It was such a chore to have to deal with underlings. Being the boss was great but being a leader pretty much sucked.

He was glad that he'd asked Mindy to go the company Christmas party with him. It would give her the opportunity to get to know him on a more personal basis. Who knew? If Mindy played her cards right, she might become Mr. Bernard Morton, an honor Bernard had only given to three previous women. Of course, none of those marriages worked out because Bernard had the misfortune to pick the wrong woman each time. Mindy might be different.

Bernard's telephone rang. Glancing at the caller i.d., he saw that it was from that annoying twit, Dudley, in accounting. Dudley was always bothering him about financial matters. Barely suppressing his sight, Bernard picked up his receiver. "What?" he barked.

"Good morning, sir. About the annual Christmas party?"

"You can't make it? That's all right, Dudley. Maybe next year."

"No, no, it's not that--do you have any idea of how much this party is going to cost the company?"

"It wasn't that expensive last year. Why should it be anymore now?"

"Because Ms. Cooper has apparently hired the most expensive caterer in all of Schuyler Square so the party will cost us at least three times what it cost last year. She's also booked the ballroom at the Schuyler Square Inn and hired a band."

Bernard felt his blood pressure rise. "What's wrong with the employee lunchroom and a karaoke machine?" he almost screamed. "And why isn't Ms. Cooper making the refreshments? All of my other administrative assistants always did the food! What's wrong with that woman?"

"I don't really know, sir. I suggest you ask her. I have another suggestion."

"What?"

"Well, you know that couple who just won the lottery? Rumor has it that they're throwing a big Christmas party the same night of our company's party. Why don't you call them up and ask if we can't come to their party too?"

Bernard considered the idea. It was pretty pushy but it would also save him a ton of cash. Plus, those lottery winners had money to burn. "Do you think they'd mind?"

"It never hurts to ask. They're having their party at the Schuyler Square Inn also. My wife has been invited."

"I see. So they're inviting anyone?"

After a stiff silence, Dudley replied, "It seems that way, sir."

"You do that. Call those lottery winners and ask if we can join forces. Tell them I'll pay for the appetizers if they pick up everything else. That way we can rent out the entire inn and really have a bash. Good thinking, Dudley."

"Don't you think it would be better if you made that call, sir?"

"No, I don't. I'm the boss and you work for me. You make the call. Let me know what they say. The party is next Wednesday, you know."

"Yes, sir," Dudley said resignedly.

Bernard hung up the phone, pleased with himself. Of course, he'd have to straighten Mindy out on a few things such as thrift and budgets, but all in all things were working out very well indeed. Why should he pay for a Christmas party if he could get someone else to do it instead?

"Ho, ho, ho," Bernard said out loud.

Lottery Winners Make Very Good Friends

"Hey, Sally! What's new and beautiful on your clearance rack?" Mindy breezed into Barden's Boutique, her mood improved by leaving work and the prospect of shopping for a new dress. It didn't really matter that she'd be wearing the new dress on a date with El Creepo, also known as her boss. Mindy planned on spending as little time as possible with Bernard Morton at the office Christmas party. The man emitted extremely weird vibes.

"Mindy!" Sally greeted her. "There are some pretty nice items on the clearance rack. Or you might want to look on the regular racks and see if anything catches your eye. We're having a good sale this week."

"It would have to be a ninety percent off sale for me to be able to afford anything. Oh, hi, Rosanne. How are you? I haven't seen you since you won the lottery."

"Hello, Mindy. It has been awhile. How have you been?"

"Not as good as you," Mindy replied. "What does it feel like to be a gazillionaire?"

"Very nice," Rosanne admitted. "Are you looking for a new dress?"

"Yes." Mindy began flipping through a rack of party dresses. Red, green, gold, silver--they were all gorgeous and all out of her price range. "I'm working at Kutrate Kemicals and we're having an office Christmas party."

"You quit the newspaper?"

"I'm just taking a short leave of absence. I was burnt out on journalism so I thought I'd take a break." That was the story Mindy was giving to everyone and--amazingly--they all seemed to buy it. Or perhaps no one was interested enough to wonder why Mindy would give up being the editor of a newspaper to become what amounted to basically an office slave.

"How do you like working there?"

"Well, I'm starting to get ready to go back to the paper," Mindy said with a grin.

"Say, we're having a party too and I'd love it if you'd come with Tyler."

"Thanks, Rosanne. I'd like that." Mindy felt a new appreciation for Rosanne. Working for Mavis Schuyler must have been a lot like working for Bernard Morton: miserable.

"You know what else I'd like?"

"What?"

"If you'd let me buy you any dress you want to wear to my party. It would really give me a great deal of pleasure to do that."

"Oh, Rosanne--I don't know--" Mindy stopped her toothless protests. Rosanne wanted to treat her so why not? "Well, if you insist that would be great. I'd love to have a real knock-em-dead dress to wear to the office party and to your party."

Rosanne reached for a glittery gold number and held it up. "This would look perfect on you, Mindy."

"All right," Mindy said, "but you have to let me bring my famous onion dip to your party. It's the least I can do. Are you inviting Mavis?"

"Sure. And her latest boy toy. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?"

"It sounds unforgettable," Mindy replied.

Boss or Dictator or What's the Difference? Either Way, It's Probably Not a Good Idea to Date Him

“Mindy!” Bernard Morton’s deep voice barked over the archaic intercom on Mindy’s desk. Sighing, she pushed the response button.

“Yes?”

“Come in here!”

Not bothering to respond, Mindy released the button and sighed again, more deeply this time. Working for Bernard Morton at Kutrate Kemicals was like working for a dictator of a very small, very elite country. The words “please” and “thank you” were apparently not in Bernard’s limited vocabulary and no one had ever taught him how to give instructions. Instead, Bernard gave orders that he expected to be met immediately and precisely.

Mindy walked to the doorway between her office and Bernard’s. This can’t last much longer. I’ll find out what’s going on around here soon and then I’ll be able to quit.

Boy, she sure hoped so. Even with Christmas fast approaching, Mindy was finding it next to impossible to find any kind of Christmas spirit at Kutrate Kemicals.

“Yes?” she asked as she stood in front of Bernard’s desk.

“The annual Christmas party is a week away. What have you done to get ready for it?”

“What do you mean?” Mindy asked. “I haven’t done anything about it since this is the first time I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, as my executive assistant it’s your job to set the whole thing up.” Bernard looked at Mindy with exasperation. “Reserve a banquet hall, order the food, make sure the bar is ready—and it’s a cash bar. No free drinks around here.”

No free anything around there, Mindy thought. “Is this in my job description?”

“It falls under ‘other duties,’” Bernard replied.

Mindy forced herself to sound pleasant. “Well, I’ll do my best. How many people will be attending?”

“The whole company. It’s a mandatory party. I don’t want anyone saying that Bernard Morton is a Scrooge.”

Mindy stared at her boss. Bernard looked very handsome that day in a dark blue suit with a lighter blue shirt and a maroon tie. His brown hair was glossy and the glasses he wore gave him an intellectual but sexy touch. How, Mindy wondered, could such a good looking man be such a total drip? “All right,” she said. “Am I invited too?”

Bernard looked pained. “You work here, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you’re invited.”

“Am I allowed to bring a date?”

“Actually, I thought you  might go with me.”

“Go with you where?”

“To the Christmas party.”

Mindy was confused. “I have to work at the Christmas party too?”

“No, Mindy, I want you to go to the party with me,” Bernard said slowly as if Mindy was a little on the dumb side. “I want you to be my date.”

Finally, the break that she’d been waiting for. Mindy was positive that she’d be able to find out a lot more from Bernard Morton as a close and personal friend than she’d ever be able to find out as his overworked executive assistant. Of course, I won’t sleep with him since that goes against journalistic ethics. Plus she already had a boyfriend. But she was sure that Tyler wouldn’t mind. After all, it wasn’t like she was going to marry her boss.

Just pump him for information on what the hell kind of business he was running.

“I’d love to be your date,” she assured him. “Now I’d better get going. I’ve got a Christmas party to plan.”

An Unexpected Invitation

"I could get used to this," Mike remarked to his wife, Rosanne. "I could get used to sleeping late, buying everything I want off the internet and eating out every night. This winning the lottery is all right."

Rosanne grinned at her husband. "It is a lot better than rushing through every day only to come home to a pile of bills you can't afford to pay."

"We can afford to pay the whole town's bills now. Which reminds me--do you think we should move?"

"From Schuyler Square?"

"Sure. We can live anywhere we want now--California, Colorado, Chicago. Or we can buy a nice house right here. The nicest house in town. We could even buy Schuyler Manor."

"I don't believe this." Rosanne looked up from the mail she was opening.

"Someone else asking for money?"

"No. An invitation to the annual Christmas party given by my former boss."

"Mavis invited us to her Christmas party? Are you sure she doesn't want you to serve and me to park the cars?"

"Nope. It says right here that we're cordially invited to a Christmas party hosted by Mavis Schuyler." Rosanne threw the gilt-edged invitation down on the kitchen table, disgust covering her face. "Can you believe that woman? I worked for her for over twenty years and the only kind of invitation I ever got from her in all that time were first cracks at the clothes she was donating to charity. Now that we're rich she wants to be our friends? I don't think so."

"Maybe we should go," Mike said slowly.

"Are you crazy? Why would we put ourselves through that?"

"Because I'm serious about buying Schuyler Manor. We could do it, Rosanne. Then all of us could live together without being crowded--the two of us, the kids, our parents.We'd be like the Waltons, only with a lot of money."

"But I wouldn't know how to act at a party thrown by Mavis. I'm used to being her servant, not her guest."

"Don't you think it might be fun to be on the other side of the fence for once? Have a drink served to you by whatever poor soul she sucks into working for her next?"

"It might at that," Rosanne said slowly. "Only I don't have anything to wear."

Pulling his brand new credit card out of his wallet, Mike handed it to his wife. "Go shopping," he suggested, "and not at a discount store. Go to some place nice and buy whatever your heart desires. You'll be the belle of the Christmas ball."