*Click Clack, Click Clack, Click Clack*

That’s the sound of black Prada pumps making their way across the perfectly polished floors of Iventive HQ (Headquarters). As owner of Iventive, I work from 6am to 6pm; the hours can go by extremely quickly or you can be sitting by the clock waiting for the hour hand to make its long awaited procession to 6pm. Then, of course, all hell breaks loose!

The sheer and utter laziness of my workers will be the demise of me. The first task on my agenda today is to check the designs that the designers have ‘crafted’ for next season. How boring! I have publicly and repetitively announced my distaste for this activity; I have no shame whatsoever. The meeting commenced when I sat down at the head of the table in one of our various meeting rooms. The large white swivel chair keeps me sane and never fails to calm my mood like a tasty antidepressant. Those perfectly executed 45° (degree) turns which have to ability to make you feel as bubbly as a child but still put you in a point of authority.

A pompous young girl named Soohye with dyed vibrant red hair and a purple mini dress which seemed to make her ‘babies’ almost catapult out of her dress went up first to present her design.

“My design is a beautiful, red A-line skirt which is perfect for Christmas. I’m sure it’ll sell like wildfire and everyone will fall in love with it,” she said.

“I certainly won’t! Get it out of my sight please, it’s filthy! Kill it! Kill it before it reproduces! And, please, next time, try and dress more appropriately! You’re at work! Not a damn strip club! Okay, who’s next?” I asked.

30 minutes later...

“What the hell is wrong with you designers? Do you not listen to a word that I say to you? Why is it that every single week, you’re producing the same crap? If by next week, none of you have any good designs, I won’t think twice about firing you all. Please, just do your job! I pay you to design clothes which people will actually like! I know, that sounds crazy and might be a handful for you stupid people to understand but they have to look good! I don’t pay you to bludge and make up some two minute sketch which is ‘revolutionary’. I might as well do everything by myself! All of you get out of my sight before I really do get angry!” I said.

They all scrambled out of the meeting room, those useless imbeciles.

The next 5 hours were spent in my lavish office, sketching designs for next season. I went through 4 sketchbooks and still wasn’t satisfied. You could say that I was in the ‘zone’; high heels long forgotten, lying forlorn on the ground while my feet were propped up on my work table. My hot pink chair really is a work of art and provides my back with comfort & stability while still looking grand.

I was so deeply immersed in my work that I failed to notice an intruder come into my room and make them self comfortable in my lounge area. My office is out of bounds and locked 24/7, the only person who has a spare key is my receptionist; I am positive that she wouldn’t be crazy enough to unlock my room without permission as I would fire her !

“Hey baby, do you have any lemonade?”

Oh no! He’s even coming to haunt me in my subconscious!

“I’m over here!”

I slowly looked up; Lo and behold, there stood Kris.

“What are you doing here? You can’t just come into my office like you own the place! It’s out of bounds! How did you get in? You seduced my receptionist, didn’t you, huh?” I asked.

“It’s good to see you too! It’s amazing that you still look hot, even in your work apparel!” he said.

“Oh, don’t think you can sweet talk your way out of this!” I said.

“Hey, I come with food!” he said, then put 3 boxes of food on my desk.

Oh, my, gosh, he brought a box of Krispy Kreme donuts, a box of white chocolates and a massive tub of cookies and cream ice-cream!

‘Okay, okay, you can stay, but next time, this won’t cut it!” I said.

“So where’s the lemonade?” he asked.

“In the fridge,” I replied.

I stood up and went to deposit the chocolate and ice cream in the fridge. I then went to the lounge area with my humongous box of Krispy Kreme donuts, ready to demolish them. I sat down opposite Kris.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m hungry...can’t I eat the food that you’ve brought me?” I asked.

“You’re so weird! Most women would wait until the man is gone and then stuff their faces with food in their own privacy. You know, to maintain their image,” he said.

“I couldn’t care less about my ‘image’ especially when I’m in my office,” I said.

I proceeded to stuff my face with the donuts. My, oh my, they taste heavenly! The crispy outer layer is tantalising and melts effortlessly in your mouth.

“Ew, you eat like a pig,” he said.

“Pigs must eat beautifully then, huh?” I replied.

We both looked at each other and cracked up laughing.

When our laughter died down, I decided to ask him a serious question, “So, how many?”

“What?” he asked.

“You know, how many?” I asked.

“How many, what?” he asked.

“How many women did you make out with after I left yesterday night? 7? Or was it 10? No, it must have been 15” I said.

“I-I thought you went home! How did you know?” he asked.

“I did go home; I didn’t have to be there to know that you were ripping out numerous girls mouths. You’re a playboy; you don’t just stay with one girl. So, tell me, why are you spending so much time on me when you’re obviously not interested in a long term relationship?" I asked.