Sign me up to be your personal biatch!

I got this t-shirt for helping my wife out! Yay!

On Sunday, Babyboo asked me to keep her company at her work office for a couple of hours, while she finished up a project. By 'keeping company,' however, she really meant become her personal assistant or crudely, her *Biatch* (this was a dream come true for her).

How do I let myself get abused/whipped like this? I guess I offered but I ended up getting her coffee, filed, stapled, ran errands and looked things up for her like the monkey boy that I am. I was actually amazed at how eager I was to please and probably would have picked up dry cleaning for her, if asked.

She rewarded me with sticks of gum and kisses on the cheek. I'm so cheap. All this slavery reminded me of how I started out at my job as a fresh, young analyst on the sales desk straight out of undergrad. I knew going in that it would be rough and that I would start low on the totem pole and need to first get my priorities straight (read this as "perfecting the art of taking down breakfast and lunch orders first before even thinking about talking to real clients").

There were definitely some old school salesmen on the desk who smelled fresh meat and made it their life's goal to make things hellish and beat the pride and entitlement out of all the analysts who showed up.

Despite the near soiling of pants as a result of prank calls of customer orders gone bad, or the phone books that were covertly put in our bags, the push-up battles, and the forced eating contests, we analysts started to get our wings and backbones and become useful.

There was, however, one salesperson who continued to rag on me. One day it was too much and I took the guy aside and told him that 'it was not in his best interest to make me feel like crap and that this would be the end of the hazing.' (I actually said that! Go me!)

He then apologized and confessed about how he got hazed so fiercely when he started out that he frequently shed some man tears out at home and also said that he was actually much fatter and balder than he is now. (HA!) It was very therapeutic.

Anyways, that day was a victory and I'm not saying that I stepped up and threw it down against my Babyboo in the same way but she knew that I would not be oppressed (at least not more so than I was).

She is a smart one and knew the currency that would keep Free Phil motivated: she bought me an awesome lunch (Chipotle) which, I, of course went out and fetched (for the both of us; I fly, she buys) and told me to keep the change net after I picked up her presentations at Kinkos. I think that was a victory for me.