Question of the day: is it acceptable to bargain a physical relationship with someone in a position of power in exchange for a job, raise or any other form of compensation?
In the workplace, HR professionals would call this sexual harassment or grounds for termination. On the streets, prostitutes would call this Tuesday or lunch. Hardcore feminists may argue it’s a female’s God-given right to use her wiles in order to get what she wants. While more morally sound folks might refer to this type of behavior as demeaning, shameful, sinful, corrupt, etc.
Personally, unless my boss had the body of Channing Tatum, face of a young Leo DiCaprio, was hung like Michael Fassbender and the position I was after was “Queen of the World,” I’d have to take the moral high ground on this one. But who am I to judge? Let’s discuss.
Monica Lewinsky. What a slutty, slutty genius. I’m a smidge jealous I didn’t think of it first. Become a White House intern. Befriend Billy C. Perform an oral service in the Oval Office. Cue scandal and multimillion dollar book deal. Her rise to the top wasn’t very classy, and was definitely a little messy, pun intended, but I’m sure Mr. Clinton can attest, she got the job done.
Only in an America would a politician with the last name “Weiner” be involved in an extensive sexting scandal. He couldn’t have picked a chick with a more porn-ready name. Sydney Leathers cashed in on her very public tryst with the shamed politician, spreading her legs for a six-figure pay day. I can’t imagine her family is proud of the way she made a name for herself, but as long as the paychecks keep on coming (and cumming) I’m sure she’s fine with it.
To be fair, this kind of behavior reaches far beyond politics. Since the birth of cinema the Hollywood casting couch has provided a nice cushion for men and women in the entertainment industry to show directors just how far they are willing to go to land a feature film. Megan Fox cast in Transformers? Come on. Everyone knows Michael Bay hit that (allegedly).
Can you imagine getting intimate with your superior?
Ladies, you walk into his office for your quarterly performance review. He’s slumped in his chair like Jabba the Hutt gobbling down a salami and mayonnaise sandwich. Repulsive. You take a seat, trying not to focus on his four chins, lazy eye and the inch-long hair growing out of the mole on his cheek. Upstairs your brain is screaming STOP while downstairs you’re drying up like the Sahara Desert. You begin to unbutton your blouse, preparing to swallow your pride, among other things. He watches you. Unblinking.
You begin to wonder if the next twenty minutes of being bent over an IKEA desk while a middle-aged man grunts his hot, coffee breath in your ear are worth the thousands of dollars you will undoubtedly spend in therapy for the rest of your life. Is a twenty percent raise, first level parking spot and company car really worth the fact he’s going to weep like a baby moments after he reaches completion? God forbid you catch some sort of mutated, ancient form of herpes he contracted in the ’80s from a dangerous mixture of Quaaludes and Porta-Potty sex at a .38 Special concert.
Gentlemen, put yourself in this position: you head into the dragon lady’s office just after your morning cigarette break. You’ve already downed three cups of coffee and a Diet Coke to combat your two-day hangover. She’s sitting across from you with her usual snakelike grin. Her desk is cluttered with family photos and post-it notes containing inspirational quotes. It’s only been three months since she gave birth to her last kid and you’re beginning to wonder if sex with her is going to be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. You spot a tube of Preparation-H next to her personal pharmacy of menopause vitamins. She opens a drawer, pulls out a box of tissues and places it on her desk. Game on.
You’ve always wanted to be dominated by an older woman with power, but in your fantasy she was more the Demi Moore type, and less of the Kirstie Alley type sitting in front of you. Keeping your eye on the prize, you think of all the things you can do with the extra ten grand you’re going to be making annually from this backdoor deal. Installing that industrial sized projector for Monday Night Football in your living room would no longer be a pipe dream. An extra $833 per month (before taxes) could really boost your quality of living. You focus your attention back on her. A little missionary, maybe some seated scissors then a big finish with the cowgirl’s helper. You can do this.
From here you have two options:
1) You call an audible, come to your senses, and realize there is no amount of money in the world that would be worth touching this middle-aged monster. Rise and exit.
2) You flat-back your way to a promotion.
I’d say it’s best to climb the corporate ladder the old fashioned way. Quit your job and marry rich. Case closed.