The Women's Job - The New Intern - Intro

I was a Senior VP in a billion-dollar tech company, and Janice started as my intern/assistant.  Everything about her was mysterious. Like, how did she get the job in the first place? I hadn't asked for an assistant. I didn't need any help, and most especially not from a 22-year-old college dropout. But one day, she just showed up with a form from HR.  

"You're obviously overworked," said my boss, the CEO. 

"Janice is the daughter of a friend of a friend. She asked to become your assistant and convinced me it was a good idea."  

"She specifically asked for me?" I asked, astonished. 

"Why?"  

"Hell if I know. She must be mentally unstable," he joked.  

Janice was sharp, beautiful, clear-eyed, brilliant, and young. She seemed to pick up on what I needed so quick it was scary.  After only a month, she was in complete control of my schedule, deciding what meetings and events I would attend. 

After two months, she took over all lines of communication (phone, E-mail, IMs, etc.). 

My very own chief of staff.  At first, it was just sorting and categorization. But then she began to write the responses. At first, I reviewed everything she wrote, but it was all so perfect. 

Freaky perfect. Several times, I swore I had written an email only to discover it was Janice who had done it.  The truth is that I was on the edge of burnout. Ten years earlier, I was the "technology wunderkind" and aggressively promoted every year. 

At 30, I became the youngest Senior VP in company history and put in charge of over 100 different product lines. It was awesome at first, but after two years of 90-hour weeks, I was a wreck.  And so Janice was a godsend. I devoted more time to strategy, technology direction, and outreach. The CEO was delighted.  

"Paul," Janice said, sliding a form in front of me.  Janice had recently switched from the more formal 'Mr. Gregson's to just 'Paul'. Not being that formal, I hadn't minded.  

"My internship is almost over," she said, "and I need you to sign this so I can become a full-time employee. You do want me here full time, don't you?"  I looked into her round, hazel eyes. She seemed honestly worried that I might not sign it.  

"Of course I do!" I quickly assured her, signing the form with a flourish.  "Thank you, Paul!" Janice gushed. "I will do everything in my power to help you achieve the level of success you most desire."  Strange choice of words, I now realize. 

 The next day, the first pair of panties showed up on my desk.  I walked in that morning, and there they were. They were dark teal, shiny satin, and with delicate lace trim. 'For you to wear,' said a note pinned to the front.  Embarrassed, I quickly thrust them into my laptop bag.  

All that day, I could feel them, there in the bag, as if they were a physical presence.  "Paul! Snap out of it!" said the CEO, snapping his fingers. 

"Sorry," I mumbled, getting my mind back into the conversation.  It was happening again, I fretted. A long time ago, I had flirted with cross-dressing. I had bought some lingerie and had enjoyed wearing panties, once even to the office.  

But it quickly became apparent that it was interfering with my work. I was constantly distracted by the feelings of my silky smooth underwear. 

My focus began to suffer. I spent time on non-work activities (I'm sure you know what I mean). It was like a siren call. And so, I quit. Cold turkey.  And now, here they were again, tempting me.  Of course, I knew that it was Janice who had placed them there. 

But how had she known? It was impossible. My dalliance with female undergarments had been over a decade earlier. I had been 120% focused on my career and my business ever since.  How had she known?  

"Why don't you let me handle the launch of the new product?" Janice suggested.  

"What are you talking about?" I asked, shocked at her cheek but impressed with her confidence.  Janice was growing by leaps and bounds in the job. Not only in self-assurance, but also in stature, both physically (she seemed taller - was she wearing heels?) and in her dealings with others.  

"You've been so busy recently," she explained. "All of these speaking engagements, writing inspirational blogs for the staff, those endless executive meetings."  

"But the new product it's massive!" I said. "There are thousands of details which need to be worked out. And the development team is not talking to product marketing, and half the QA department just quit. It's a disaster. I can't give that to you."  

"Of course you can. Let me take a crack at it. Here is your itinerary to the conference in London. You'll be giving the keynote, of course."  

"But..."  

"I can handle it," she said, soothingly. "I've already scheduled a 'come to Jesus' meeting with all of the leads. They all want it to work; they just need to be shown the way." 

 "Really? You think you can do that?" 

 "Absolutely."  I fretted. This was my job. Coordinating the development teams was what I was hired to do. But things had gotten so off track recently, and I just didn't have the energy to dive in and fix it.  

"Are you wearing your panties?" she asked. 

 "Am I...?" I blushed furiously, looking down at the ground like an errant child. "Yes," I admitted.  How had she known?  It had been a month since those panties had appeared on my desk. 

An entire month of being obsessed with them and not wearing them.  Finally, I had broken down and put them on this morning, and oh.... It brought back old feelings and past experiments in a rush.  "I have another pair for you," Janice said, with a small smile.  

The implication was clear. Give her this new responsibility, and she would give me another pair of panties.  'Just buy your own,' I thought to myself. 'Do it online and buy a whole boatload and send them straight to home.'  But I knew it wouldn't be the same. 

Not in any way the same as wearing a pair that had been given to me by my assistant.  "Okay, why not?" I said, finally. "See what you can do."  

"You won't regret it," she said. The confidence in her voice gave me pause. "But since I'm doing something for you, there's something else I would like you to do for me."  

"Sure, of course."  

"Your hair."  

"My hair?"  

"Yes. Don't you think it would look better if it were longer?"  

"What? Why?" I loved my hair. It was perfect 'executive' hair. I had it cut every week.  

"You're the visionary behind this company. Everyone knows that. And everyone knows that visionaries have long hair."  "I don't believe that's really true..."  

"Regardless, I want you to have long hair. Would you do that for me?"  I looked her in the eyes and saw nothing but a completely loyal, completely devoted assistant.  

"Okay," I said, giving in. 

"If you think it's best."  

"I do," she said. "And...." Janice reached into her briefcase and pulled out an envelope. 

"Here," she said, sliding it across the table to me. It was bulgy in a way that made it clear that it contained something other than papers.  "Thanks," I mumbled, reaching for it. 

 "But..." She held on to it.  

"Yes?" I looked up.  

"I want you to wear these while giving that keynote speech," she said, with a wicked smile, "in London."  Her command took my breath away.  

True to her word, Janice brought the team leads together ("at your direction, of course!") and somehow muscled everyone onto the same page. The product would be late, but only by a month, and the demos looked amazing.  "I need you to make me a manager," Janice said, placing the 'position change' form in front of me.  "A manager? But you're only 25!"  

"24, actually. Don't you think I've been doing the work of a manager?"  

"Of course you have, it's just that,"

  "If I'm doing the work of a manager, shouldn't I have the title?"  I fretted. No one in the company had ever been promoted from assistant to manager. And not in just eighteen months.  

"If I'm a manager, I can help you out even more," she argued. "I will have the position and authority to take on more responsibility."  

"Okay, I guess that makes sense." 

I signed the form.  

"Thank you, Paul. By the way, the local high school asked me to talk about technology careers with their students this afternoon. Would you take my place and talk to them for me?"  

I frowned. Talking to high school students on career day? That was lower than my usual engagement. Much lower.  

"It would be a huge favor," she continued.  

"I don't know, Janice, I'd have to skip the executive strategy meeting."  

"Do you need a further incentive?" she asked, placing a new envelope on the table.  "Janice..." I said, hyperventilating a little. 

"I really don't think this is a good idea. I "Paul," she said, looking at me intently. 

"This is not what you think it is."  

"It's not?" I asked, feeling goose bumps.  

"No," she responded.  I could do nothing but breathe.  

"And you see," she continued, "I would talk to the high school students myself, but unfortunately, I have to go to a doctor's appointment."  

"Is everything okay?" I asked, worried.  Janice said nothing for a few seconds.  That was the moment when I realized that we had crossed paths. The moment when I realized that I was more dependent on her than she was on me.  

"Yes," she said, finally. 

"Everything is fine."  The look in her eyes told me that she knew what I was thinking. That she understood. Suddenly, the tone of her voice changed.  "I just need you to do this for me," she said. 

"I need you to go to the local high school and fulfill the promise I made. It's important, don't you agree? To encourage young high school students to take up a career in Tech?"  

"Of course it is," I said.  "So then you'll do it?" she asked. "You'll take my place?"  

"Yes," I said, "I'll take your place." It was a tacit admission of my lowered status. 

"Thank you," she said. "I'm glad you're able to assist me in this matter."  Uh oh.  "And I want you to wear this," she added, indicating the envelope. 

"You will, won't you? Since I went to all this extra effort to get it for you?"  

"I... ah..." I looked at the envelope.  

"Oh, don't worry. You can dress casually when you talk to the high-schoolers. No one will know."  "Okay," I said, hesitantly.  "Very good, Paul. Thank you."  Janice walked out of the office.  I peeked into the envelope.  "Oh my god," my mind blitzed.  It was a camisole.  

The launch of the new product was a huge success.  "And the rising young star who made it possible!" the CEO exulted, as he introduced Janice at the company-wide launch party to raucous approval.  

Janice strode onto the stage, looking strong and powerful. She took her time to thank everyone on the team. 

 "And, of course, my mentor, Paul Gregson," she finished up. "Whose vision and firm hand on the tiller has made this ship steer true."  It almost made up for my boss having slighted me. 

 We were alone in my office. The CEO had just left. He had accused me of frittering away my time on useless conference appearances, blog entries, and miscellaneous. He had also accused me of sitting on my laurels while Janice had done all of the real work.  

It was all true. My ears were burning I was so humiliated.  But Janice had defended me, forcefully, saying that I was more in charge than ever, and that she was merely the 'right-hand woman', doing my bidding. Further, she stated, the public speaking arrangements were critical to 'building common mind share', both within the company and throughout the industry.  Whatever the hell that means.  

"Why did you say all those things about me?" I asked her, bewildered.  "It's not time," Janice said. "I'm too young. No one will take me seriously. The company needs for you to be in charge. At least for now."  

"Am I only to be a figurehead?" 

 "Not just a figurehead," Janice said, looking me straight in the eye. "My figurehead."  So there it was.  

"Poor Paul," she continued. 

"Is it all that bad? After all, aren't your days more relaxed, not having to make all of those difficult, complex decisions? Isn't it just easier to do what I tell you to do?"  

I looked away. This was not how a senior VP was supposed to behave. I should have fired her, right then and there... but I couldn't.  

"I asked you a question, Paul," she said, her voice harder. "Isn't it just easier to do what I tell you to do?"  "Yes," I said, feeling a stone in my stomach. "Yes, it is easier."  "And isn't that what you've been doing recently? Doing what I tell you to do? Going to the conferences I've set up for you? Writing the blogs and doing the technology research I've suggested that you do?"  

"I..."  I thought back over the last few months, and was shocked to discover she was absolutely correct. It hadn't been overt - it had just seemed to happen. 

At some point, after controlling my schedule and my communications, she had started to prepare task lists for me to do - just another one of her helpful services. And after some time, I had just started doing them.  "Yes," I admitted.  

"What's the name of someone who works at the direction of another? Is there a name in business for that relationship?"  I paused for a long time.  "An employee," I whispered.  "That's a good name," she said, "but there's another one I like more."  

"A... a subordinate?" I asked. 

"There you go," she smiled. "But wait, in the corporate hierarchy, who is reporting to whom?"  

"You're reporting to me," I said.  "But is that right? I mean, if you're taking direction from me, shouldn't you be reporting to me? Shouldn't I be the boss, and you be a member of my staff?"  I took some deep breaths.  

"Yes," I said, feeling whipped. 

 "Yes, what?" she asked, mercilessly.  "Yes, I... I should be working for you." 

 "Under me."  I gulped, "Yes, I should be working under you."  "Well then, let's make that happen," Janice said.