ummi Zinc Butts were an answer to a crisis. Radical marketing placed Ludens' Cherry Drops with a whopping thirty percent of market share last quarter in the lucrative 'guilt candy' segment.
     Stimulated, yes I was, that faithful think-tank Tuesday morning. Candy inspired by the shape of, well, peaches and fueled by good ol' American-style guilt. Gummi Zinc Butts showed me the path to success. Only ten months on the shelf and we had sixty percent of market share. And it wasn't my strong ideas that got us there. It was my raw gut instinct fueled by pure carnal need.
     Secrets to Management Through Controlling the Chi states that only one thing need come after a brilliant idea: another brilliant idea.
     That's the chapter I got lost on.
     “What Would Jeremy Do?” reads a banner in the break room. On a slow afternoon skinny freckly four foot Jeremy used to talk some big smack about kicking EVERYBODY'S ass on ToughMan.
     I found the redheaded stepchild's dissertation in the university annals. So sinister a plot I quickly found that money bought shitface the paper that won him a hotel management/food service degree. I tear out a page or two and quote it back during Tuesday's meetings. It works. I've demonstrated rapid success into a private office with my own phone line. Imitation is the highest form of flattery.
     Tuesdays are Chief Director's 'New Ideas in Marketing' meetings. He's a dolt. I'd like to think that his underage girlfriend is owed some credit for my one good idea. Whole meetings waste away while I check out her fine flag corps ass.
     The meetings take place in the basement. Maybe a year or so ago Corporate took on a new strategy. My new peer associates balance perilously on the edges of their chairs, in crouched prone position, brutal gut instinct. I decidedly dress inappropriately; Van Heusen shirt and a tie.
     “By God, we'll one dot five the quota this week boys or it's no conjugal time-outs for the staff!” Spits Chief Director. I huddle dazed waiting for the old man to keel over, listening to his hearing-aid scream. Dickhead son Jeremy rocks back and forth in the corner drooling. Daddy sees the coup and doesn't care alzheimer's viagra money. Marry the girlfriend.
     Daddy Chief Director gone suddenly fangs appear. My peer staff are demure villains; larval predators await the sale. Indie convenience stores are our most recent target. 'C-Store ninnies' we like to call 'em.
     Behind the mask of candy I can be whatever character satisfies their needs; I stroll don't stalk the aisles of endless cubicles.
     The associates rush the manager's quadrant snarling, hiking legs and pissing off their territories. I must enjoy the ride, I always wait in line.
     Annabelle would sleep with me tonight and that means something. She's way too hot for me all the staff wants her. I'm distant, I don't reciprocate: there's the attraction. Eight hours a day in a chair I've grown quite the belly and what self esteem I have left!
     She kinda got me my job. Letter of reference so maybe I'd put out.
     Suddenly I spy a little C-Store money come in the door. Predatory instinct staff all pick up her scent, rush Ms. Money, encircle and begin good-cop bad-cop routine. All the beta males growl and spit but back down; silverback gets first cut.
     “Honeybaby I know exactly the candy your store needs.” I show her the limited circular tins. I need this sell for the rent. Out of nowhere pops up shitforbrains.
     “Looky over here sugarpants. I gotta value packs.”
     “Honeybutt why don't you come over to my store and do an analysis?” says Ms. C-Store Money.
     I won't can't take a supervisor referral, not from fuckpants.
     Something come over me terrible. Can't control it slapped Jeremy hard. Hard like ToughMan prelims didn't know it was coming. Stupid looked at me all silly on the way to the floor, half grinning like he wanted it. I got up on top of him and started slap punching his cockhole. 'I didn't draw first blood' would later be my losing argument to the judge. Felt good to break the next in line.
     Ms. C-Store Money ran out the door.
     Anabelle finally pulled me off. There goes 'Employee of the Month.' Please not the lecture about co-dependant upsell.
     Jeremy tooth-dangling smile up at me. It hurt him but not like unemployment hurts. Dr. Laura tears of guilt stream down my face.