As a life-long resident of a Major Metropolis with requisite NFL, NBA, NHL and MLB teams, I consider enthusiasm for college sports an infliction shared by unsophisticates living in in Alabama, Kansas and other dullard states forming the "Pumpkin Patch." (Or as those of us important enough to fly first-class on business travel sometimes say "Flyover Country.")
As hiring partner for the firm, I do inquire as to an applicant's interest in sports, as effete fellows who spend weekends hunting butterflies and practicing the violin rather than cheering the home town's professional football, basketball, baseball and hockey teams won't fit in with the jocular nature of firm culture.
But I take a hard look at interviewees who express undue interest in college sports. Our firm consists of professionals at making money. Why take a chance on applicants who care about sporting efforts of amateurs?
So I was surprised when word got round that some of the younger fellows at the firm formed a betting pool based on results of the so-called March Madness college basketball tournament. I considered firing them all for wasting time on such nonsense. But, after discussing the matter with a younger partner with more insight as to the ways of the "Milennial Generation," I changed my mind.
The fellows playing the pool don't actually care about the teams, only about the games' results, the younger partner explained. Similar to how we at the firm don't care about our clients, only the money we make off them. And while betting on March Madness games used to be the province of employees at saving-and-loans, office supply stores and other rubes, in recent years even those talented enough to work in Big Business have gotten in on the action.
We partners aren't slavedrivers with our associates. In the course of the 16-hour work day, associates are permitted a stray minute here and there to glance at the internet and visit the water cooler or restroom. So long as associates aren't watching or listening to games at work via streaming media, just checking on scores, "March Madness" wagering is an acceptable diversion, I decided.
Moreover, as it's good management practice for a boss to take notice of his employees' outside interests, I decided it would boost office morale if I participated.
Initially I was at a loss as to how to fill out my bracket. Of course, I hadn't watched any of the teams on television. I doubt any of the associates watch much college basketball either, though as long as an associate clocks his 80 hours Monday through Friday, plus 12-hour "half days" on weekend, what he does in his spare time is his own business.
From their conversation, I gathered the associates based their picks on high-powered analysis of team statistics. All well and good, I decided. The firm is in the number-crunching business, after all, so this March Madness activity is practically a training exercise. I contemplated billing the matter to a deep-pocketed client but realized that would be a bit of a stretch.
However, I haven't used a spread sheet since I made partner a decade ago, so preparing my own analysis wasn't an option. Finally, I decided to go with the experts and base my picks entirely on the brackets' official seeding.
Playing it safe has always done well by me, as attending the right sort of preparatory school and college, choosing the right sort of major, entering the right sort of profession and choosing the right sort of first wife and her trophy successor made me the success I am today.
For a high-powered, Type A, successful businessman such as myself, there's only one way to watch televised sports: sitting on my luxurious leather-upholstered couch before my movie-projector style TV with 120-inch screen, my shapely trophy wife spread across my lap so I can vigorously spank her bottom throughout the game to express joy for good play by my favored team and disappointment for bad.
While I require my wife to be completely naked during games, I decided it would be fun to decorate her a bit. So for each game she must wear nipple clamps weighted with a locket resembling my favored team's mascot, plus a ball gag in team colors. (It's amazing what you can buy on the internet these days!)
While interviewing for a trophy wife, demonstrating an affinity for taking a sound spanking and the requisite round rump ranked high in the job's criteria. My trophy wife certainly meets the requirement and is a far improvement over her predecessor. (Wife number one wasn't into spanking and would only accommodate me by stuffing a pillow under her pants, hardly a satisfying option.)
But I hadn't counted on so many upsets. We're only through round one and already several favored teams have been booted from the field. These so-called experts who prepared the official seeding of the tournament brackets obviously aren't Big Firm material.
I've spanked my wife so hard in frustration that she must cool her blistered behind in icy water in the bathroom sink for several hours post-game while I stick my aching hand in next to her. And my wrist hasn't hurt this much since we fellows at prep school realized they were spiking the cafeteria milk with saltpeter and quit drinking it.
At round one's conclusion, I assigned our firm's token female associate, who's not participating in the March Madness betting pool, with a top secret assignment. She crunched the numbers and with so many upsets the odds of my winning the pool are unacceptably low.
You strike me as pretty smart for a woman. Would it be bad form for me to cancel the betting pool and tell the associates to get back to work?
While we normally have little in common with the moneyed set, I must admit that my husband and I share your disdain for college athletics.
Hubby was far too busy during his college years selling encyclopedias door-to-door during the day and attending class at night to pay attention to his school's athletic teams. Meanwhile, I went on scholarship to a private women's college, St. Scholastica Heart of Mary Sisters of Mercy School of Education and the Secretarial Arts. (Among my work-study obligations was serving as whipping girl so students training to be teachers could practice with the ruler.)
Though my college, the Novitiates, was at one time a small-school volleyball power, the stubborn refusal of the NCAA to allow us to continue fielding teams clad in the traditional knee-length gymslip caused us to abandon sports.
So while we watch in the humble living room of our 800-square-foot Chicago bungalow on a 12-inch black-and-white TV, professional sports, namely da Barez, Bullz, Hax and Sax, are what's televised in our home. (There is another well-known Chicago team, but they're famous mainly for losing and playing in a nostalgia-ladened park popular with tourists and we don't care about them.)
But, no matter how trivial college sports may be, I certainly would call foul if you cancel your firm's March Madness betting pool. Such action would make you a poor employer, for just as you allow your trophy wife to enliven her day by mixing in trips to the gym and beauty parlor with overseeing the servants cooking and cleaning -- I assume a man of your means employs household help -- your firm's hardworking associates deserve their momentary recreation.
While I don't know if you plan to watch the tournament's remaining games, I certainly don't feel you're obligated to continue spanking your wife during the contests. As my husband likes to remind me, spanking is for my benefit and his pleasure, and if neither end is being met perhaps you should try an alternate means of entertainment.
Instead of spreading your wife across your lap for spanking, perhaps you can allow her to forego a ball gag so she can kneel before you sucking your Big Unit. During half-time she can entertain you by doing cheers causing her nipple-clamped boobs to bounce up and down.
While my husband normally doesn't make me wear nipple clamps during discipline, the idea of wearing a pair weighted with a locket bearing resemblance of our favorite professional sports teams does sound appealing. Putting that on my list for an anniversary present.