what the..? I thought to myself, opening up Instagram for the first time this Monday morning, as I s
what the..? I thought to myself, opening up Instagram for the first time this Monday morning, as I sat at my desk, What the hell is this?? I had - huh? - a whole inbox full of messages, from accounts I didn’t recognize. Who are all these people…? No one ever sends me DMs, I thought, as I opened the first. This, the first of maybe a half-dozen, took me aback:..Who was this person? What was she doing, contacting me? ‘Applying for job’???Oh no…Already half a mess from a weekend spent in indulgent, self-flaggeratory decrepitude, ashamed of myself for how pathetic I’d been over the past two days, I felt my chest drop as I began to realize what was happening:Randi.Immediately I went to my desktop, to start pulling up our accounts, the business profiles for the practice. Instagram, Facebook. I had given Randi the title of “Director of Social Media” and - shame on me - hadn’t really kept track of what she was doing with them. She had said, last week, that she’d be helping start the search for new hires, and she had obviously gone online to post for the positions. My hands shook as I began to realize what she’d done. Any normal person would have used Indeed.I shuddered as I signed in. All our social media platforms were absolutely blanketed with completely inappropriate postings, the most recent being for the job positions. Our Facebook - which under my direction had been an admittedly stale assembly of old practice photos - was now rife with gratuitous body shots of Melissa, selfies of the girls,all ostensibly advertising the office. Randi had also pinned and boosted a post featuring herself and the staff assembled in a group cheesecake pose: “Any pretty girls want a job? We need lots of ladies to fulfill the massive needs of the office of Far Horizon Medical Associates, front- and back-end. Great money! Become a Lean-In girl!” Agh!!! Our Instagram ‘story’ was a similar series of Melissa’s old modeling pics, and culminated with this:I dropped my face into my hands. Randi had hijacked our online presence, our social media accounts, and even started some new ones. Tumblr, Twitter, all with the same message. UGH. What did she think she was doing?? The worst offense, though, was on Instagram. A picture - oh no - of me, in my clinic jacket, with the caption: “D-cup? Bigger? Dr. J likes you already! We want you for our #bodsquad team!” And then, the killing blow: “send resumes to me here, pics to @dr_j_787878 - pretty girls only! #bigboobsamustI have to take this d-Just then, an IG alert. More pics of “Bessie” coming thru:Jesus.I need to speak to Randi about this, I told myself, knowing I should call her in here, right away. I even reached for the desk phone, to dial her extension but - god help me - I couldn’t. I felt strangely nervous, anxious, afraid to confront her. What was wrong with me?? Was I really this meek, frightened of my own employee, of confronting her, of making her mad? She was a strong personality, and the thought of arguing with her…My hand rested on the phone; I was frozen, unable to act, wrestling with self-reproach. Just then, my cell phone buzzed. A text from Melissa:How did she..?My thoughts, for a brief moment, became more confused. I felt watched, even more paranoid. But then, a light of clarity settled me with the thought - Melissa can fix this. no…I can handle this myself…! C-can’t I?No, you can’t. I had just spent all weekend jerking off to her. How was I supposed to face her? I’d wilt in shame, for sure, just being in the room with her. But, even through my anxieties, my doubts and misgivings, I found myself typing:Yes, Melissa can make this better. I waited, watching my phone for her reply. I straightened my tie. Pushed some papers to the edge of my desk. Rearranged my pens. After a good minute:======================================= Thanks for reading. Next post up at my Patreon -- source link