He’s a killer queeeeen
So I got a call at work this morning, first call of the week after break. I recognized the indignant voice right away—think Roger, the Paul Lynde-sounding alien on American Dad. The first time he’d called was a few months ago, with complaints that ranged from the hair and dress of the editor in her photo to the thickness of the paper, which was NOT up to snuff with the other magazines he bought, such as Martha Stewart Living. I had been quite placating to the man, explaining about our mostly-new staff, our redesign, that thick paper required a thick budget that Martha has but we don’t have, and that I had no control over the fashion choices of the editor.
Today I dreaded what was sure to be a deluge of complaint, while I’m already swamped.
“Now you must know you have males in the readership, right?”
“Sure.”
“I talked to someone there a few months ago, Christine or I don’t know who it was, and she said that you have this new editor with the frizzy hair, and you were redoing the magazine and it’s terrible, it’s worse than before!” he said, greatly put out. “I have bought five issues of this magazine, and it is just extremely bad.”
[rolling eyes] “Why do you think that?”
“It’s just—[beleaguered sigh]—I see this guy Matt here on the cover, OK, so I pay the five dollars, and I look inside and [flipping pages] nothing. You can’t see anything! It’s terrible!”
“Well as I tried to tell you last time, it’s very difficult to make this magazine, it’s hard to find models—“
“—I have five guys here in Buffalo who will model for you!”
[and I’m sure they’re exactly the type that women would want to see]
“But this is just awful. I mean, anyone could make a better Playgirl and call it Playgirl.”
“That’s very easy to say, when you’re up in Buffalo and not here trying to make the magazine.”
“Excuse me?” his rant stopped short, as if I had said something very dire or extremely cruel that cut the very fabric of his existence.
“I said, that’s very easy for you to say, up there in Buffalo, when you have never tried to make this magazine yourself.”
“Can I quote you on that for my article about Playgirl for the Albany newspaper?”
“No you can’t.”
“Well I’m going to!” Click.
All in a day’s work here at the PG Mansion.
Today I dreaded what was sure to be a deluge of complaint, while I’m already swamped.
“Now you must know you have males in the readership, right?”
“Sure.”
“I talked to someone there a few months ago, Christine or I don’t know who it was, and she said that you have this new editor with the frizzy hair, and you were redoing the magazine and it’s terrible, it’s worse than before!” he said, greatly put out. “I have bought five issues of this magazine, and it is just extremely bad.”
[rolling eyes] “Why do you think that?”
“It’s just—[beleaguered sigh]—I see this guy Matt here on the cover, OK, so I pay the five dollars, and I look inside and [flipping pages] nothing. You can’t see anything! It’s terrible!”
“Well as I tried to tell you last time, it’s very difficult to make this magazine, it’s hard to find models—“
“—I have five guys here in Buffalo who will model for you!”
[and I’m sure they’re exactly the type that women would want to see]
“But this is just awful. I mean, anyone could make a better Playgirl and call it Playgirl.”
“That’s very easy to say, when you’re up in Buffalo and not here trying to make the magazine.”
“Excuse me?” his rant stopped short, as if I had said something very dire or extremely cruel that cut the very fabric of his existence.
“I said, that’s very easy for you to say, up there in Buffalo, when you have never tried to make this magazine yourself.”
“Can I quote you on that for my article about Playgirl for the Albany newspaper?”
“No you can’t.”
“Well I’m going to!” Click.
All in a day’s work here at the PG Mansion.
Labels: jerks, nyc tomfoolery, porn office





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