I’d heard the rumors, but it wasn't until yesterday that I witnessed the reality for myself.

The rumors concern the publisher’s two daughters. Both of them are said to be monsters who have been given no lessons in social interaction. My colleagues have gone as far as to say that the daughters are worse than their mom, but I always thought that was saying a lot considering my feelings about the lady (publishing experience acquired via sexual transmission, fired the top selling account executive, talks a lot but doesn’t back it up—you know, the typical gripes).

The two girls, 8 and 12, fit the prototype you would imagine upon hearing the phrase: “The Bosses Kids." They prance around as if this were the office they started from the ground up. Nothing is off limits, not even the employess. Yep, as it turns out, they seem to think they own us too.

My home wireless was down yesterday, which is the only reason I came into the office to do a few things that I could have otherwise accomplished in a few minutes. Everyone who works here has a key to get in on the weekends, but evidently few ever actually come in. Or, at least this is what I gather from having witnessed the publisher’s wife with her hair up in a sloppy bun and no make-up on. She clearly wasn’t expecting company. She’s one of those who’s always done up if she’s to be seen by people she knows (We can add this fact to the list of things I don’t like about her). I pretended like I didn’t notice that she looked shabby, but I could tell she was shaken up nevertheless. I wanted to say, “Don’t worry—I never think you’re attractive. Make-up or not.” Seriously though, she is the epitome of everything that scares me about marriage.

It was only a couple minutes before I sat down to check my emails that both girls came up and tag-teamed me with the questions (imagine the twin sisters in The Shining for reference):

“What are you doing?”
“Why?”
“What’s your name?”
“How do you know my daddy?”

These questions were legit ones and only slightly annoying. I only became annoyed when it dawned on me that I was essentially babysitting them while their mother went about her business. I'm sure it wasn't her intention, but I still made a mental note to tack my babysitting fees onto my next paycheck (as if I have that ability).

Things took a turn for the worse when I started ignoring them. I’m not really good with kids per se, but moreover, I wanted to get out of the office as soon as possible. In other words, their presence alone was annoying the hell out of me.

The girls were obviously not happy that I was ignoring them. So they threatened to fire me:

“Do you want me to tell my mom to fire you?”

“Bring it,” I told them, followed by an arrogant, “I’m the best thing that ever happened to this place.”

The publisher’s wife walked into the room at this point and, before the Shining sisters could peep out their demands to their mom, I informed her that they tried to fire me. At this, she was absolutely mortified. I was actually surprised at her reaction seeing as how it was that of a half-civilized human being. She apologized profusely for her daughters' rude behavior and escorted them out of the office. At this, they turned around to get one last look at me—the winner—and I stuck my tongue out at them as a consolation prize.

Let's just hope they don't start haunting my hallways at home. I already have a loud roommate and needy cat to deal with.

By the way, only three and a half more days.