But it wasn't my call. I was the top executive at our regional facility, but the directive had come from the corporate headquarters. "Take Your Daughter to Work Summer" was launched. To be fair, it was supposed to be more productive than the original observance, which had always been nothing more than a show-and-tell day when very little "work" was accomplished by anybody. This new program was for older girls only, sixteen and up, and they were to work for the company as actual summer employees, really producing something and supposedly developing confidence and career goals.

When the email notice went out, it didn't surprise me in the least that the first person through my door was my so-called executive assistant. I had "inherited" Marsha Jacobsen from my predecessor, and I had always found her only marginally competent. This problem was exacerbated her unfortunate migraine problem, which kept her stretching the absenteeism rules to the limit. I would have loved to terminate her, but the details of her misfortunes and the seemingly limitless reach of our corporate sensitivity rules would make that very difficult and politically risky for me.

"Jim, have you read this memo? It says the company is setting aside summer internships for high school girls, daughters of employees. It's like 'Take Your Daughter to Work Day', but for the whole summer!"

"Yes, I've seen it. Why do you ask?" I inquired, although in my gut I already knew.

"My daughter, Theresa, is looking for a summer job. She can work here!"

"I don't know, Marsha. You can barely keep up with your duties right now. Your headaches have you in and out every other week. I don't see how shepherding around a schoolgirl is going to make getting anything done around here any easier."

She pouted in her extraordinarily sexy manner. That was the only other factor keeping her employed in my office's antechamber - at least when she did make it in to work, she was sure easy on the eyes. She stood before me in a short-skirted business suit, very smart, which highlighted her long legs and her ample chest. God! How I wished I could fuck her, but she'd never signaled any interest, and in my position, I would be a damn fool to initiate it on my own. All the looks in the world weren't going to make having her daughter underfoot all summer any easier, however.

"Jim, it says in the memo that our facility is authorized four slots. Can't you at least interview Theresa for one of them?"

I really had no way out, and I knew it. I agreed, hoping that at least four other employees would make similar requests so that I could select their daughters. If I had to have four teenage girls to baby-sit then the further they were from my day-to-day concerns, the better. I sent out an email of my own, encouraging ALL employees to consider the opportunity to vie for one of the spots.....(cont)