Donald & Michael

Donald sat in his office, the point of his tie resting in his crotch. His mother had always told him that the longer your tie, the more manly you were. All those sad losers at school that had made fun of him were just peddling fake information. When he came home crying, his mother had wiped the tears from his cheeks and patted his head. This had gone on for his entire school life, but he had just laughed off the jibes.

Now, as a grown man at the top of career, nobody made fun of his tie. He turned to his computer screen and began the lengthy process of reading his emails after returning from a golfing weekend. He scanned the subject titles for anything that indicated something even remotely interesting. He got bored very quickly, so he picked up his phone and told his secretary to bring him coffee. While he waited, he went back to the emails, but his attention span was still shorter than his finger nails. After what felt like ages, the door opened and his secretary came in with his coffee in his favourite mug – the one with the American flag on it. He stood up and placed his hand on his heart, much to the surprise of his secretary.

“Sir?” she queried.

“I’m showing respect for the flag. The flag and the country. The flag, the country, and the war veterans who fought and died for the flag.”

“But I didn’t know you were American?”

“Oh, yeah I am. Totally American. Born and bred in New York.”

“But your company biography says you were born in Guildford.”

“FAKE NEWS!” Donald yelled, causing his secretary to jump and spill coffee into the tray. “That is fake news.”

“But you wrote the biography yourself,” she said, dabbing spilt coffee with napkins.

“That’ll do,” Donald snapped, taking the cup of coffee from the tray and setting it down on a coaster. He shooed his secretary out of the room.

He was just finishing his coffee when his door opened. He looked up to see his deputy, Michael poke his head through.

“Hey, can I come in?”

Donald smiled and nodded. He liked Michael. He was friendly, warm, and did exactly as he was told. He had done a good job when he hired Michael.

“So, Donald,” Michael started before he stopped suddenly and stood bolt upright, his hand on his heart and began singing ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ with gusto. Donald stood up and mirrored Michael, looking at him like a proud parent looks at a child that has done something well. After he finished, Michael relaxed and approached Donald’s desk.

“That’s a great mug, boss,” he congratulated Donald.

“Thanks, Michael,” Donald grinned smugly. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m good, boss, thanks,” Michael shook his head.

“What can I do for you?” Donald sat down, and motioned for Michael to take the seat opposite. Michael swept forward and sat down, resting his right ankle on his left knee, exposing his rather jazzy American flag socks. Donald stood up and began singing ‘The Star Spangled Banner’, Michael jumped up and they both sang together.

Donald’s secretary came in with an armful of papers, placed them on the corner of Donald’s desk and left the room, shaking her head in bemusement.

Singing over, the two men sat down again and Michael explained to Donald that the Finance Director had been making some off-colour remarks about him in the country club. Donald was incensed.

“What did the son of a bitch say about me?”

“Well,” Michael hesitated. “allegedly, he was heard calling you a dumbass moron.”

“That two-faced, four eyed jerk. You can’t be a dumbass and a moron.”

“Absolutely, boss.” Michael nodded.

“Well, I’ll show him!” Donald hissed. “When is our next board meeting?”

“Friday, sir.”

“Right, you get an IQ test, and we’ll do that on Friday. And I’ll show that son of a bitch who’s a moron.”

“You got it.”

“And then we can hit that golf course Friday afternoon and he’ll be put right in his place.”

Michael stood up and shook Donald’s hand. Once Michael had left, Donald sat down and started searching the internet for IQ questions and answers.

At lunchtime, Donald and Michael met up and went to Subway. As they headed into the shop, Donald noticed the NFL logo on a poster. He stopped suddenly, and Michael accidentally bumped into him, pushing Donald forward and pressing him against the glass door, frightening a small girl who was sat with her parents inside, innocently eating a sandwich.

“What’s up boss?” Michael stood back.

“That NFL logo. Some of those guys won’t stand for our anthem. Really gets me wound up.” Donald ranted.

“Yeah, they certainly got no respect.”

“Well, I’m not going to eat in a place that supports the NFL.” Donald decided. “Let’s find somewhere else.”

“Actually, boss, I’m kind of hungry.” Michael pleaded.

“Well, you can go in then. But promise me you’ll leave before you get your sandwich?” Donald asked him.

“Sure thing. You got it!” Michael nodded. Donald smiled and watched Michael go through the door, then he went into the Pret A Manger next door. He was impressed when Michael showed up, a few minutes later, looking hungry. Donald gave him one of his own sandwiches and watched as Michael stuffed it in his mouth whole, then struggled to chew and swallow with a mouth full of salmon and cucumber sandwich.

Donald spent the rest of the afternoon looking up IQ tests on the internet and planning the downfall of the Finance Director. He was interrupted occasionally by phone calls, and eventually lost his temper and yelled at his secretary to hold all his calls for the rest of the day. Then on a trip to the toilet, he accidentally caught the end of his tie in his trouser zip without knowing. He really didn’t like it when he could hear people laughing at him behind his back, even more so when he didn’t know why they were laughing.

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Donald Returns

Donald And The Incompetent Theresa

Poor Donald was struggling. He was being talked about as the worst ever to hold his position. He knew this because he hid around corners when his staff were chatting in corridors, in toilets, or by the coffee machine. They didn’t know this, which accounted for the freedom of their speech. Whether it was his humorous hairstyle, his remarkably small hands, or the way he wore his tie stupidly long, they really didn’t hold back.

And so, he was incredibly overjoyed when he got a call from Theresa, who was new across the pond. She had taken over the huge clusterfuck of a company last year, and was having trouble imposing her will on the folks. Donald had called her to provide advice – ‘you gotta stop new people coming in until you work out what the hell’s going on there’. He’d also sent her an email following a particularly bad savaging she’d received in the press.

“Dear Theresa, (it read) I saw what they writ about you the other dayy. No matter how bad the press covfefe-”

His small hands had mistyped and he had sneezed at the wrong moment, causing his finger to accidentally click the mouse button, sending the incomplete and unchecked message to Theresa, and somehow, everyone in his email contacts. He quickly received a reply from his secretary, Michaela (it was Mike really, but Donald was incredibly sexist and refused to entertain the idea that a man could be a secretary) admonishing him for sending an email without being proofread first. He also got a reply from Theresa asking what the actual fuck a ‘covfefe’ was. He decided to front it out and so ignored both emails. Instead he went to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a chocolate milk.

The next day, he heard a couple of the women talking about his email in the toilet. It was difficult to make out exactly what they were saying because the toilet flushed and caused the wiretap to overload. He really needed to speak to his security guys about the placement of wiretaps in bathrooms. They had already made a hash of the peep-holes, making them too big. He had somehow managed to explain it away to Mike and Donald Junior in such a way they laughed it off. His other conversation with security was going to be about putting the spy-holes in the ladies bathroom. The talk was not good, anyway, so Donald decided to do something about it. He asked Mike/Michaela to place a call to Theresa.

“Donald,” came the voice at the other end. “Hello,”

“Hey Theresa,” Donald said. “Wow, your voice is quite different on the phone. Almost masculine.”

“Actually, it’s Mike, your Secretary.” Came the reply. “I’m just patching you through now.”

“I knew that, just kidding,” Donald blustered. Mike sighed, and the he heard the sound of a phone being put down.

“Donald, hello,” said a definitely female voice.

“Hey Theresa,” Donald greeted her.

“Ah, no. I’m her Private Secretary.” A brief pause. “I’m afraid she is in a meeting that has overrun slightly.”

“Right, no problem,” Donald laughed. “I can hold.”

“Are you sure? It might be a while,” came the reply.

“I’m sure,” Donald assured her. “I have nothing else to do,” he explained, looking straight past the huge pile of papers stacked in his ‘In Tray’ and the countless unopened emails on his computer screen.

“Alright then,” the Secretary told him, and then his ear was filled with the sound of some godawful classical music that could have been played by a three year old.

He was on hold for what felt like hours, but what was in fact two days. He was getting pretty mad by this point – he’d missed two rounds of golf and a massage with the hot Russian babe at the spa. Finally, as Donald was nodding off, the music stopped and he heard a female voice speak.

“Donald, I’m so sorry,”

“You fricking well should be you prissy little madam!” Donald yelled. “I’ve been on hold for two fricking days waiting for some dumb broad to patch me through to her boss.” There was a silence at the other end. “You giving me the silent treatment now, huh?”

“Certainly not. I will pass your feedback on to my Secretary once we have finished our conversation. I’m sorry about the delay, but we had a minor emergency in the office and in our hastiness to evacuate the building, Amber totally forgot about you.”

“Huh?” Donald was confused (which wasn’t difficult).

“This is Theresa. To whom you have been waiting to speak.”

“Umm” Donald fumbled and stumbled over his words.

“If you’re finished?” Theresa sounded pretty pissed off.

“Hey, no. I just called to let you know you have my support.” Donald said, yawning.

“That’s most kind,” Theresa thanked him, a slight softening of her tone. “I could certainly do with some support.”

“How come?” Donald asked.

“Well, I made a bit of booboo the other day. I was concerned that the board weren’t fully behind me, so I called for a vote of confidence.” Theresa sighed. “I lost.”

“That’s a shitter,” Donald commiserated. “When I hold board meetings, I go round the table and let everyone tell me how great I am.”

“You do?” Theresa sounded surprised.

“Yeah, they love me. And if they don’t,” he paused, “I fire their sorry asses!”

“An interesting approach.” Theresa said. Donald thought he could hear the sound of pencil on paper.

“Yeah, so anyway, I gotta go,” Donald said. “I’m meeting a couple of the guys at the golf club for a quick round before I meet the Head of Security.”

“That sounds like you have a busy day.”

“Yeah,” Donald agreed. “But I always play golf before I fire someone!” He laughed himself silly and put the phone down without the usual farewell etiquette was observed.

He got up from his desk, straightened his tie and strode out of his office, past Mike’s desk (where he was struggling under the sheer weight of work that Donald had ignored for the past two weeks) and out to the lift.