You've reached the voicemail feature for Justin Hammer. I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused by being unable to answer your call, but I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you, and have a good day.
There is a rather simple article on when to micromanage. If William Roberts is so incessant on his skills in that regard, you could always pass that along. You could attach my name to it as well. It's brief and attaching a website you can get from Googling "basics of micromanaging" is quite insulting. If he is going to be touting his skills in management while be that poorly educated in it, I do believe that is fair play. If he refuses to "get" the message after such and one write up, remind him that two write ups leads to three, and a third has him losing his job. Remind him that a second write up leads to brunch with the company's CEO, at my expense. Finest brunch he'll ever have.
Also, could you please pass on the last report about the branch in DC to my personal e-mail this Thursday evening? I am indisposed then as of less than an hour ago. Thank you in advance!
I majored in business and commerce, Tony. I can macromanage, too.
If you'd like a masturbatory aid, I can certainly set aside the time it takes for you to end up spent and ragged and asking for another game of Mahjong.
I didn't, no. I do now. And I think maybe I need to spend more time with you as a work deterrent, because you should not always be working. That is bad for your health.
Tony. Let's be very serious. I've got a DVD of Planet Earth in right now, and it's doing dangerous jungle animals. Sigourney Weaver is narrating the lives of these spiders that use trap plants to eat. Are you telling me to turn it off, whip out my dick, and start jerking off? Is that what you're asking?
Sorry, I have a thing (not sexual, of course)—I have to put DVDs back where they go or I can't deal with not doing that. Not totally OCD but almost there.
Now, okay. No spiders. No Sigourney Weaver. Do you want to hear more of that in detail, or would you like another?
When I think about sex, it's sex with you, and apparently it's always on a dude's mind, right? I don't want to be bad at being a dude, Rufus. That'd be bogus.
Okay, here's your choices:
- Continue previous unbuttoning surprise visit one, only in extreme detail - Pick a new one categories: a) daydream (usually at my desk or driving home when reggae isn't playing) b) actively thinking about it c) wow I woke up in need of a cold shower oops how did that happen let me try to remember! - Exit e-mail - Go West
Does this mean you want to hear about mine sometime? Because I'm really good at being a dude, if thinking about sex all the time is the deciding factor.
I want all of them. Seriously. I want to hear them all eventually. And make them happen.
Uh, but tell me more about the visit. Since you already started.
I remember it was cold, it was winter sometime. I came home in a bunch of layers—heavy coat, double socks, scarf, all of it. And, like I said, JEEVES welcomed me and it got really quiet, which is strange. There's usually some form of "soothing" noise going on in the house, even when I'm gone. Not that anyone can get close enough to break in or anything, but it's usually always there. But it wasn't. And I was freezing, wearing designer shoes that were almost soaked from the melting snow. Anyway, so I'm a bit confused because it's too quiet. I start to take my scarf off but then I hear you talk about the lights and they come on and you're right there on the couch, the one that's catty corner the front door, so I could tell someone was there but I couldn't see you, exactly. I kind of stutter because I'm really surprised (go figure), but you start unbuttoning your shirt and you say you heard I was having a stressful week and thought an impromptu visit wasn't such a bad thing, right? And, yeah, you're wearing that really dark shirt. And you look, uh, fanfucktastic in the lighting and I realize you've actually put some planning into it, and I look over at the stand by the door and you didn't even bring those red sunglasses so I'm starting to think about how much time you must have spent coming up with the whole "presentation" aspect of it. So you get your shirt halfway undone and you're just super confident? And it's kind of got this red glow in the light but then there's blue and it's kind of like looking at a cluster of stars through a microscope, you know? Anyway, I totally just forget I'm wearing winter clothes and I think my eyebrows shoot off my head. Metaphorically, of course. And I'm about to tell you that I need to go upstairs and put my clothes up and blah blah, and you just kind of tap your inner thigh with two fingers and I totally forget what I was saying or "supposed" to be doing, drop my briefcase on the floor without waiting to make sure it's propped up against the wall and it's totally not so it falls over but I don't give a fuck because you look amazing and then I'm on my knees without second thought and I don't know how I got there so fast, and you're putting your thumb in my mouth like a fish hook and you're telling me that there's all sorts of ways to relieve stress and you've appointed yourself as "honorary stress relief aid" and I'm still kind of like disbelieving the entire thing, because no way is that really happening. Then you start going on about how body heat is a good way to warm up and it's really cold outside and why don't I let you warm me up, and then my glasses are off somewhere (I don't really remember that) and you've pulled me up in your lap by the combination of scarf + tie and I'm still kind of, you know, still not really sure it's happening. Then you ask me how much my suit costs and I tell you and you ask if I remember "secret cake ingredients" and I say yes because like hell I don't, and then you remind me (like I could forget) about the clothing thing and you slipped your hand down my pants, unzipping it just enough, and you said you weren't going to leave until my suit might be unfit even after the dry cleaners, and I am totally okay with that. And it's not, in the end, btw. It's stained as fuck and so is pretty much everything else I'm wearing, that comes off much later and then you said I ruined your shirt and I was all well i should make it up to you right? and you were like, yeah, you totally should, i'm enraged right now, how are you going to do that? and then i'm back on my knees and you put 2+2 together on taht one
I don't think I always would have. Because of what you just said, yeah. But I know you're not, you know, actually like that, so it's different now. Does that make sense?
> Keep going with same fantasy > Pick another > Take a fifteen minute break > Exit e-mail
no subject
um
i can do that
i will do that
god please can i do that
1/2
No never. Just a fantasy. I'd hate for it to actually happen. I might be offended.
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Of course you can.
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need to surprise you though
thats important too
i have a shirt like that ill wear it
1/2
Jack,
There is a rather simple article on when to micromanage. If William Roberts is so incessant on his skills in that regard, you could always pass that along. You could attach my name to it as well. It's brief and attaching a website you can get from Googling "basics of micromanaging" is quite insulting. If he is going to be touting his skills in management while be that poorly educated in it, I do believe that is fair play. If he refuses to "get" the message after such and one write up, remind him that two write ups leads to three, and a third has him losing his job. Remind him that a second write up leads to brunch with the company's CEO, at my expense. Finest brunch he'll ever have.
Also, could you please pass on the last report about the branch in DC to my personal e-mail this Thursday evening? I am indisposed then as of less than an hour ago. Thank you in advance!
- JH
no subject
Sorry, but are you beating off right now?
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no. No I'm not. Kind of got distracted by your micromanaging email. :|
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You want to try again?
no subject
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If you'd like a masturbatory aid, I can certainly set aside the time it takes for you to end up spent and ragged and asking for another game of Mahjong.
no subject
And if you're working, I can't help you get off. Which sucks. And not in the good way.
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[file attached]
Sure you can. I'll just save the e-mails for later and go over them and end up in the same state I want you in.
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But I won't know! That's part of the fun.
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Tony. Let's be very serious. I've got a DVD of Planet Earth in right now, and it's doing dangerous jungle animals. Sigourney Weaver is narrating the lives of these spiders that use trap plants to eat. Are you telling me to turn it off, whip out my dick, and start jerking off? Is that what you're asking?
no subject
And no. I can see how carnivorous spiders would be a huge turn-off. That's not even remotely sexy.
15 minutes later
Now, okay. No spiders. No Sigourney Weaver. Do you want to hear more of that in detail, or would you like another?
no subject
Another? There's more?
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Uh. The first time I woke up in your bed was May 27. I think I've had more than one fantasy/daydream/dream that involved sucking you off.
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I'm not discouraging that. At all. For the record.
no subject
Okay, here's your choices:
- Continue previous unbuttoning surprise visit one, only in extreme detail
- Pick a new one
categories:
a) daydream (usually at my desk or driving home when reggae isn't playing)
b) actively thinking about it
c) wow I woke up in need of a cold shower oops how did that happen let me try to remember!
- Exit e-mail
- Go West
no subject
I want all of them. Seriously. I want to hear them all eventually. And make them happen.
Uh, but tell me more about the visit. Since you already started.
no subject
I remember it was cold, it was winter sometime. I came home in a bunch of layers—heavy coat, double socks, scarf, all of it. And, like I said, JEEVES welcomed me and it got really quiet, which is strange. There's usually some form of "soothing" noise going on in the house, even when I'm gone. Not that anyone can get close enough to break in or anything, but it's usually always there. But it wasn't. And I was freezing, wearing designer shoes that were almost soaked from the melting snow. Anyway, so I'm a bit confused because it's too quiet. I start to take my scarf off but then I hear you talk about the lights and they come on and you're right there on the couch, the one that's catty corner the front door, so I could tell someone was there but I couldn't see you, exactly. I kind of stutter because I'm really surprised (go figure), but you start unbuttoning your shirt and you say you heard I was having a stressful week and thought an impromptu visit wasn't such a bad thing, right? And, yeah, you're wearing that really dark shirt. And you look, uh, fanfucktastic in the lighting and I realize you've actually put some planning into it, and I look over at the stand by the door and you didn't even bring those red sunglasses so I'm starting to think about how much time you must have spent coming up with the whole "presentation" aspect of it. So you get your shirt halfway undone and you're just super confident? And it's kind of got this red glow in the light but then there's blue and it's kind of like looking at a cluster of stars through a microscope, you know? Anyway, I totally just forget I'm wearing winter clothes and I think my eyebrows shoot off my head. Metaphorically, of course. And I'm about to tell you that I need to go upstairs and put my clothes up and blah blah, and you just kind of tap your inner thigh with two fingers and I totally forget what I was saying or "supposed" to be doing, drop my briefcase on the floor without waiting to make sure it's propped up against the wall and it's totally not so it falls over but I don't give a fuck because you look amazing and then I'm on my knees without second thought and I don't know how I got there so fast, and you're putting your thumb in my mouth like a fish hook and you're telling me that there's all sorts of ways to relieve stress and you've appointed yourself as "honorary stress relief aid" and I'm still kind of like disbelieving the entire thing, because no way is that really happening. Then you start going on about how body heat is a good way to warm up and it's really cold outside and why don't I let you warm me up, and then my glasses are off somewhere (I don't really remember that) and you've pulled me up in your lap by the combination of scarf + tie and I'm still kind of, you know, still not really sure it's happening. Then you ask me how much my suit costs and I tell you and you ask if I remember "secret cake ingredients" and I say yes because like hell I don't, and then you remind me (like I could forget) about the clothing thing and you slipped your hand down my pants, unzipping it just enough, and you said you weren't going to leave until my suit might be unfit even after the dry cleaners, and I am totally okay with that. And it's not, in the end, btw. It's stained as fuck and so is pretty much everything else I'm wearing, that comes off much later and then you said I ruined your shirt and I was all well i should make it up to you right? and you were like, yeah, you totally should, i'm enraged right now, how are you going to do that? and then i'm back on my knees and you put 2+2 together on taht one
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I always i thought you wouldnt like if i was too demanding too confident might seem arrogant i didnt want
jesus christ if id known i know now god when i see you again
the things im going to do to you
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> Keep going with same fantasy
> Pick another
> Take a fifteen minute break
> Exit e-mail
no subject
actively thinking about it give me 1 of those
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