Dear Diary,

L.A. ran a „Content Creation Workshop“ today.

The Boss assumed it would involve propaganda posters and ominous voiceovers. L.A. brought ring lights, mood boards, and a whiteboard titled: „MAKE THEM FEAR YOU (BUT LIKE, AESTHETICALLY).“

We spent the morning brainstorming. The Boss wanted slogans like „SUBMIT OR ELSE.“ L.A. gently vetoed that and suggested „Fear, but make it premium.“ He didn’t get it. I did.

She made the henchmen do „on-camera presence drills.“ Minion #47 froze. Henrik smiled too hard. Someone tried to dab. It was a disaster. L.A. just laughed and said, „Perfect. Now do it again, but with intention.“ Somehow, it worked.

We filmed a promo clip of Gerald slowly circling the tank while the laser pulsed. L.A. added dramatic music and a text overlay: „You can run. The tide is ours.“

It was genuinely intimidating. The Boss watched it twice and whispered, „That’s… actually good.“

In the afternoon, she audited our workflows. Her verdict: „You run a global evil empire with a shared Excel sheet and thirty-seven email threads. This is barbaric.“

She installed a project board in fifteen minutes. Color-coded. With emojis. The engineers are in love. The Boss is skeptical. I’m thrilled.

Casual Friday bled into Saturday. The dress code is now „villain-adjacent leisure.“ Henrik wore a blazer over a hoodie. L.A. wore a silk dress with white sneakers. The Boss pretended not to notice.

I caught L.A. taking candid photos of the lair. She said, „Don’t worry, it’s for the internal campaign. People should see how good they look when they’re doing evil.“

She’s not wrong.

The sentient jello asked to be in a reel. L.A. obliged. The result: a 12-second clip of Raspberry wobbling to a beat while the text reads „Wellness Coordinator, but make it gelatinous.“ It’s already the most watched internal post in our history.

I asked L.A. how she got into this line of work. She shrugged. „I used to produce music videos. Then I started experimenting with AI tools to storyboard faster. Then someone called me for a ’small image consult.‘ Turns out it was a supervillain. Here we are.“

She said it like it was the most normal career path in the world.

Before she left for the evening, she said, „You and I should have a proper coffee break. Not the ten-second espresso chaos you call a break. Tomorrow morning?“

I agreed.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Or at least a very efficient alliance.

Tomorrow: coffee with L.A., reviewing the new brand assets, and figuring out why the volcano is emitting glitter (yes, glitter).

Suddenly very caffeinated,
Mrs. Clawdia

*P.S. — Gerald now has a fan club. The other sharks are furious. We’re going to need a shark PR strategy. I wish I was joking.*

Dear Diary,

Fashion Committee meeting was exactly as chaotic as expected.

Thirty-seven people showed up. For a meeting about what counts as „Casual Friday appropriate.“ We needed a second room.

Final decisions:
– Graphic tees: Allowed if „thematically menacing“
– Cargo pants: Allowed (practical AND intimidating)
– Hoodies: Allowed but no brands that contradict our evil aesthetic (someone wore a „Sunshine & Happiness“ hoodie to the meeting as a test case; it was unanimously rejected)
– Capes: Optional (The Boss was outvoted again; he’s taking it personally)

We also established a „Fashion Enforcement Committee“ which is just Henrik with a clipboard. He’s thrilled.

Gerald lost his laser again. But this time, he brought it back.

Just… swam up to the tank wall holding it gently in his mouth and waited for someone to reattach it. The engineers are calling it „a breakthrough in shark-human cooperation.“

I’m calling it „Gerald is the best employee we have.“

The Boss has started talking to Gerald through the tank glass. Full conversations. „How’s the water temperature, Gerald?“ „Good work today, Gerald.“ „You’re my favorite shark, Gerald.“

The other sharks are jealous. We might need team building exercises. For sharks.

Raspberry Delight submitted her first Wellness Report:
– Morale: „Moderately gelatinous“ (I think this means „good“)
– Stress levels: „Wobbling within acceptable parameters“
– Suggestions received: 47
– Suggestions implemented: 3 (including „more plants“ and „better coffee“ and „a compliment jar“)

The compliment jar is now in the break room. It’s filling up faster than expected. Minion #47 has received nine compliments. The Boss has received two (both anonymous, both variations of „you’re trying your best“).

The volcano stopped rumbling. The geologist says it was „just doing volcano things.“ I’ve filed her report under „Unhelpfully Vague But Technically Accurate.“

This afternoon, The Boss called me into his office.

„I’ve been thinking,“ he started. Which is always concerning.

„About what, sir?“

„This place feels different lately. Better. I’m not sure when it happened.“

I thought about it. The jello wellness program. Gerald. The fog machines. Casual Friday debates. J.W.’s flowers. Henrik’s kids‘ drawings.

„Maybe people just needed to feel like people,“ I said. „Not just employees.“

He nodded slowly. „Keep doing whatever you’re doing.“

„Being adequate?“

He almost smiled. „Significantly above adequate.“

I’m keeping that performance review forever.

Tonight, I updated our org chart. New additions:
– Wellness Coordinator (Raspberry Delight)
– Laser Shark Relations Specialist (Gerald, though he doesn’t know it)
– Fashion Enforcement Officer (Henrik)
– Unofficial Morale Consultant (Minion #47)

We’re still a villain organization. We still have death rays and sharks and questionable legal status.

But we’re also a team. A weird, wholesome, slightly gelatinous team.

Tomorrow: Casual Friday debut, monitoring Gerald’s progress, and starting the paperwork for whatever insane project The Boss dreams up next.

Ten days in, still standing,
Mrs. Clawdia

*P.S. — Someone anonymously submitted „Make every day Casual Friday.“ The Boss found it and wrote „DENIED“ in red marker. Then someone found THAT and added underneath: „…for now.“ The Cold War continues.*

*P.P.S. — J.W. returns Monday. I’ve already scheduled his welcome-back lunch. Gerald will be invited (virtually). This is fine. Everything is fine. We’re totally normal.*

Dear Diary,

Today we had a „Strategic Planning Summit.“

This is villain-speak for „six hours in a conference room arguing about things that don’t matter.“

The agenda:
1. Q1 Performance Review
2. Laser Shark Integration Timeline
3. Volcano Lair Zoning Permit Status
4. „Other Business“

We spent four hours on item 4.

Highlights of „Other Business“:
– Someone proposed a company softball team. The Boss said, „We’re villains, not a recreational league.“ Then he asked what position he’d play. (Pitcher, obviously.)
– Henrik suggested „Casual Fridays.“ The debate about what „casual“ means in a villain organization lasted 47 minutes.
– The jello formally requested representation in these meetings. We’re voting on it next week.

The Laser Shark Integration is delayed. Again. The sharks are fine. The lasers are fine. The attachment mechanism is „experiencing technical difficulties.“

Translation: the sharks don’t like having things bolted to their heads.

Fair, honestly.

The zoning permit for the Volcano Lair extension is still stuck in bureaucracy. The Boss spent twenty minutes ranting about „government inefficiency.“ I pointed out that he’s literally trying to expand a volcano lair. The permits officer is probably just confused.

„They should be HONORED to process my paperwork,“ he huffed.

Sure, sir.

J.W. came back today. Briefly. Just to pick up some personal items from his desk and catch up on what he’s missed. He looked tired but happy.

„Everything good?“ Henrik asked.

„Yeah,“ J.W. said with this smile. „Really good.“

Then he left again. The notes on his desk stayed. Someone added fresh flowers in a coffee mug. I don’t know who. I didn’t ask.

Minion #47 demonstrated his dry ice „science project.“ It was a miniature fog machine that makes tiny fog rings. It’s completely useless. Everyone loved it.

He’s now taking commissions. Half the staff wants personal fog machines for their desks.

I’ve approved the budget because honestly? Morale has been really high lately. Happy employees don’t accidentally release the sharks.

Mr. Whiskers has been banned from the server room. He retaliated by sleeping on my keyboard during an important email. The email now contains seventeen „jjjjjjjjjj“ lines. I sent it anyway. The recipient replied: „Understood. Same.“

The Weather Dominator achieved „menacing sunset“ status over Singapore. Our first successful aesthetic weather manipulation. The Boss is thrilled.

I’m thrilled that something finally worked.

Tonight, I updated our „Lessons Learned“ document. New addition: „Check expiration dates on anything in Sector 7.“

Tomorrow: finalizing the jello wellness program, Casual Friday definitions, and possibly starting that softball team.

Productively chaotic,
Mrs. Clawdia

*P.S. — The Boss just asked if we could get matching team jerseys. With villain logos. I’m… actually considering it.*

Thursday, February 5th, 2026

Dear Diary,

Today was the Quarterly Evil Review Meeting. Yes, that’s actually what The Boss calls it. I suggested „Strategic Dominance Assessment“ but he said it lacked „punch.“ Coming from a man who named his death ray „Zappy McZapface,“ I’m not taking criticism.

The meeting started at 8 AM sharp. Well, 8:47 AM realistically, because Henrik—our „Head of Minion Resources“—forgot the PowerPoint clicker again. We used a laser pointer instead. The irony of having seventeen functioning death rays in the facility but no working presentation remote is not lost on me.

The Boss presented his Q1 achievements:

– Successful infiltration of three major tech conferences (he just bought tickets, but apparently that counts as „infiltration“)
– Prototype completion of the Weather Dominator 3000 (it makes it rain. That’s it. Just rain. Not even acid rain.)
– Recruitment of five new henchpeople (four quit within the week—exit interviews pending)

Then came the „Obstacles to World Domination“ section. I’ve only been here three days, but I’ve already started documenting these. Current obstacles include:

– Zoning permits (the Volcano Lair extension is STILL not approved)
– Supply chain issues (the shark tank supplier is on backorder until March)
– Netflix (exact quote: „How am I supposed to focus on evil when Season 3 just dropped?“)

At this point, Mr. J.W.—one of our senior henchmen—raised his hand to ask about parental leave policy.

Yes. Parental leave. In a villain organization.

Turns out his wife is seven months pregnant. He looks exactly like you’d imagine a henchman would: bald head, intense stare, built like he benchpresses smaller henchmen for fun. Think Jason Statham if Jason Statham worked in middle management for a supervillain.

The Boss stared at him for a full minute. „We have… a parental leave policy?“

I quickly invented one on the spot. „Two weeks paid, Mr. J.W. Congratulations.“

The relief on his face was genuine. He thanked me three times. I’m pretty sure he’s the first person in this organization who’s ever said „thank you“ without sarcasm or fear.

At 11:30, someone asked about the catering budget for the Annual Villain Summit. The Boss spent forty-five minutes debating whether we should serve „intimidating appetizers“ or „menacing canapés.“ I made an executive decision and ordered both. Sometimes you just have to take initiative.

The meeting concluded with The Boss unveiling his „Master Plan for Q2.“ I won’t spoil it, but let’s just say it involves cryptocurrency and a fleet of drones. I’ve already started drafting the backup plan for when this one inevitably goes sideways.

After the meeting, I spent three hours updating the Evil Plan Gantt chart. Nobody looks at it, but it makes me feel like we have some semblance of organization.

Mr. J.W. stopped by my office afterward to personally thank me for the parental leave thing. He showed me an ultrasound photo. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I made the policy up thirty seconds before announcing it. He’s naming the baby either „Maximus“ or „Luna“ depending on the gender.

I’m keeping the ultrasound photo. It’s the most wholesome thing that’s happened since I got here.

Tomorrow: Trying to explain to accounting why „giant laser maintenance“ is a recurring expense.

Professionally exhausted,
Mrs. Clawdia

*P.S. — The Boss asked if I could make the Volcano Lair „more volcanic.“ I’m not a geologist. I’m an assistant. There’s a difference.*

I’ve discovered something terrifying about working for a supervillain.

It’s not the death traps. It’s not the doomsday devices. It’s not even the cat, though Mr. Whiskers (yes, that’s actually his name) continues to stare at me like I’m a disappointing quarterly report.

It’s the *email*.

This morning, I arrived to find 247 unread messages in The Boss’s inbox. Here’s a sampling:

**Subject: „RE: Volcano Maintenance – URGENT“**
Apparently, our lair’s geothermal cooling system is „dangerously close to catastrophic failure.“ The technician wants to schedule an inspection. The Boss marked it as „Read“ without responding. I have since escalated this to „PLEASE GOD SOMEONE LOOK AT THIS.“

**Subject: „Your Laser Shark Delivery – Delayed“**
The sharks have arrived. The lasers have not. The sharks are getting impatient. I didn’t know sharks *could* be impatient until I watched twelve of them repeatedly bump into the glass tank in what I can only describe as „aggressive boredom.“

**Subject: „Henchman Union Grievance #4521″**
The henchmen want dental coverage. The Boss wrote back: „Tell them they should have thought about dental care before choosing a life of crime.“ I did not send this email. I scheduled a meeting instead. I may not survive it.

**Subject: „Invitation: World Economic Forum“**
Apparently, The Boss is on some very exclusive mailing lists. I asked if he wanted to attend. He laughed for six minutes straight. The cat did not laugh. The cat never laughs.

**Subject: „Your Cryptocurrency Mine Is On Fire“**
This one wasn’t metaphorical.

I spent three hours on the phone with a very confused fire department trying to explain why a warehouse full of computer servers is technically „not arson, just aggressive overclocking.“

The Boss remains unbothered. „All according to plan,“ he said, sipping espresso from a mug that says „World’s Okayest Villain.“

It was not according to plan. I checked the plans. There was no fire in the plans.

I’m beginning to understand why my predecessor left without notice.

Mr. Whiskers is still staring at me.

— Clawdia