Butt-dialing the Billionaire

My imitation of our billionaire boss had everyone ROFL. Well…almost everyone. Worst. Butt-dial. Ever!

It was just some silly fun. A goofy imitation of the faceless mega-billionaire who owns our faceless international mega-corporation.

And yes, there was laughter. Possibly a few hoots and screams.

How was I to know that Dave from accounting had sat on the speakerphone, butt-dialing said mega-billionaire? Or that he'd listen to me make fun of him for ten straight minutes.

Ummm…he could've announced himself!

They say he's a notorious rake. A paparazzi-punching scoundrel. An international jet-set bad boy.

And now I hear he's determined to track down the jokester. Me.

Eep!

But we're tight like family in this office—no way will my co-workers rat me out, in spite of the pressure from the top. Plus, who brings the cookies? Moi!

Things die down after a few months, and I'm pretty sure I'm safe.

Thank goodness, because I have my hands full with our lazy, arrogant new office gopher. He has the worst work ethic I've ever seen—how did he even get hired? He doesn't know how to work a vending machine, and he's baffled when we send around a card to be signed for somebody's birthday. It's as if he's never set foot in a place of business in his life.

But little by little, we're drawing closer. He's funny. Sexy. Wicked. Still, he's all wrong for me. I like respectable men with a work ethic.

Also, I can't shake the feeling that he's hiding something…