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.*

Friday, February 13th, 2026

Dear Diary,

Today was the first Casual Friday.

It went exactly as chaotically as expected. Henrik wore cargo shorts with a tactical vest. Minion #47 wore pajama pants (progress: they were clean). Someone wore a Hawaiian shirt with skulls on it. The Boss watched from his office with visible disapproval.

Then L.A. walked in.

L.A. is our media consultant. Freelance. Early thirties. Showed up wearing a perfectly tailored blazer, ripped jeans, and neon pink sneakers. Somehow made it look both professional and like she just left a rave.

„You must be Mrs. Clawdia,“ she said, extending a hand. „I’ve heard you’re the one who actually runs this place.“

I liked her immediately.

The Boss hired her to „enhance our villainous presence in the global evil community.“ His words, not mine. Apparently, our brand recognition among other supervillains is „concerningly low.“

L.A.’s assessment after a two-hour facility tour:

„Your volcano aesthetic is strong. Your death ray collection is impressive. Your social media presence is *tragic*.“

She pulled up The Boss’s Twitter account. Last post: three months ago. A blurry photo of Mr. Whiskers with the caption „Evil.“

„That’s it?“ she asked. „That’s your entire digital strategy?“

The Boss looked offended. „Evil doesn’t need marketing.“

„Evil absolutely needs marketing,“ L.A. countered. „How else will people fear you properly?“

I had to leave the room before I laughed.

By lunch, L.A. had already:
– Redesigned our logo (it’s actually good?)
– Started filming „behind the scenes“ content
– Convinced three henchmen to be „brand ambassadors“
– Declared war on our „outdated workflow systems“

Henrik loves her. Minion #47 is terrified of her. The sentient jello is… intrigued? Raspberry wobbled over during her presentation and formed an enthusiastic heart shape.

Gerald got his laser reattached. Again. This time it stayed on for SEVEN HOURS. The engineers are calling it a „major breakthrough.“ L.A. filmed it for content. Gerald is now TikTok famous. (Well, famous among people who follow laser shark accounts.)

At 3 PM, L.A. found me in my office. She was wearing the blazer over a vintage band t-shirt now. Still the pink sneakers.

„You and I are going to get along,“ she said, dropping into the chair across from me.

„Oh?“

„You’re the only person here who understands that competence and chaos can coexist. Also, your filing system is beautiful. I respect that.“

We spent an hour talking about everything and nothing. Her background in video production. Her early adoption of AI tools. Her frustration with people who refuse to evolve.

„The Boss is brilliant,“ she said. „But he plans like he’s still in 1987. You can’t threaten world leaders via fax anymore.“

„We stopped the fax threats last month,“ I assured her.

„Progress.“

She’s only here for the week, but already I can tell this place is going to be different. Better? Weirder? Both, probably.

Tonight, she cornered The Boss about his „brand vision.“ He tried to escape. She followed him. I heard phrases like „multimedia strategy“ and „intimidation through consistent messaging.“

Mr. Whiskers watched the whole thing. I swear he looked amused.

Tomorrow: apparently we’re doing a „content creation workshop.“ L.A.’s orders. The Boss agreed because he thinks it’s about propaganda. It’s definitely about propaganda. Just… modern propaganda.

I’m excited. And slightly terrified. Mostly excited.

Cautiously optimistic,
Mrs. Clawdia

*P.S. — L.A. brought artisanal coffee. The break room hasn’t been this energized in weeks. She’s already winning hearts.*

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,

The volcano is definitely rumbling more than usual.

The geologist we hired (yes, we have a geologist on retainer) came by today. Her assessment: „It’s a volcano. Sometimes they rumble. Probably fine.“

„Probably?“ I asked.

„Probably,“ she confirmed.

I’ve updated the evacuation plan. Again.

Gerald the laser shark successfully kept his laser attached for four hours today. Then he got bored and rubbed it off on a rock. But still: four hours is our new record.

The engineers are celebrating like they cured a disease. I let them have this. Small victories matter.

Raspberry Delight held her first „Wellness Wednesday“ event. Activities included:
– Wobble meditation (still weird, still popular)
– Healthy snack distribution (jello cups, ironically)
– A „Compliment Circle“ that got awkwardly sincere very quickly

Minion #47 told Henrik he „brings good energy to the team.“ Henrik cried. Then everyone else started crying. It was supposed to be a 15-minute activity. It lasted an hour.

I’m adding tissues to next month’s supply order.

The Boss attended. Quietly. In the back. When it was his turn to give a compliment, he said, „You’re all… adequate.“

Then he left.

Henrik translated: „That means he likes us.“

Probably accurate.

Casual Friday prep is causing unexpected drama. Someone asked if „evil-adjacent“ includes graphic tees with skulls. Someone else asked if cargo pants are „intimidating enough.“ The debate has splintered the organization.

I’ve scheduled a fashion committee meeting. This is my life now.

At lunch, I overheard three henchmen discussing baby names. Apparently, multiple people are expecting kids this year. Henrik’s sister. Minion #23’s wife. Someone in accounting.

„It’s the water,“ one of them joked.

„It’s the benefits,“ another said seriously. „Clawdia actually gave us parental leave.“

I pretended not to hear, but that might be the nicest thing anyone’s said about my work here.

This afternoon, J.W. sent me a direct message: „Thanks for everything. Really. See you Monday.“

I replied: „Take your time. We’ve got Gerald.“

He sent back a laughing emoji and a shark emoji. I consider this professional communication.

Mr. Whiskers and Raspberry Delight have reached a truce. The cat knocked the suggestion box over. The jello reformed it higher. The cat walked away with dignity.

Everyone won.

The Weather Dominator achieved „ominous thunderstorm“ status over Reykjavik. Only lasted forty minutes before reverting to drizzle, but the Boss is calling it „proof of concept.“

I’m calling it „less broken than before.“

Tonight, someone left homemade brownies in the break room with a note: „Thanks for making this place not suck. -Anonymous“

They were gone in seventeen minutes.

Tomorrow: Fashion Committee meeting, Gerald’s progress check, and figuring out if the volcano is actually fine or just „probably“ fine.

Cautiously optimistic,
Mrs. Clawdia

P.S. — Someone added „Team Therapy“ to the suggestions. I’m… not saying no.

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.*

Dear Diary,

The mystery of the 400kg dry ice has been solved.

Turns out, it was part of an „atmospheric drama enhancement“ project that The Boss approved three weeks ago and immediately forgot about. The goal: make our facility „more intimidating“ with artificial fog effects.

The problem: we already have natural fog from the broken Weather Dominator.

We now have SO MUCH FOG that Security can’t do their rounds without thermal imaging equipment. Henrik walked into a wall twice this morning.

I’ve temporarily halted the fog project. The Boss called it „surrendering to mediocrity.“ I called it „basic workplace safety.“ We’re at an impasse.

Minion #47 asked if he could have some of the dry ice for a „science project.“ I said yes because honestly, we have 395kg left and no plan for it. He left carrying a cooler and looking very pleased with himself.

Mr. Whiskers has claimed the warmest spot in the facility: directly on top of the server room’s cooling vent. IT is furious. The cat is unmovable. I’ve declared it a „feline resources allocation issue“ and delegated it to Henrik.

Henrik tried negotiating with the cat. The cat won.

The sentient jello submitted a formal proposal to become our „wellness coordinators.“ The document includes:
– Bi-weekly morale assessments
– Stress-reduction wobbling sessions
– A suggestion box (made of jello, naturally)

I’m genuinely considering it. Our current wellness program is „don’t die in the shark tank.“

Also, Raspberry Delight has been hanging around the staff areas more lately. Just… observing. Wobbling thoughtfully. I asked what she was doing. She formed a heart shape and bounced away.

I think the jello is developing empathy. Our science team is both fascinated and concerned.

J.W.’s desk has been empty for three days now. Someone put a little „Miss you buddy“ note on his monitor. Someone else added a drawing of a stick figure. There’s now a small collection of supportive messages.

This organization is weird. But in a good way, I think.

The Weather Dominator finally got fixed. Partially. It now produces „concerning clouds“ over predictable locations. The Boss called it „progress.“ I called it „still broken.“ We’re both right.

Tonight’s excitement: a false alarm in the laser room. Turns out, someone’s phone fell off a desk and the impact triggered a proximity sensor. We evacuated three sectors for a dropped iPhone.

I’m updating the emergency protocols. Again.

Tomorrow: staff meeting about „reasonable fog levels,“ addressing the jello wellness proposal, and finally dealing with whatever is happening in Sector 7.

Foggy but optimistic,
Mrs. Clawdia

*P.S. — Found out what Sector 7 smells like: someone’s forgotten lunch. From January. It’s now a biohazard. We’re just going to seal that section.*

Saturday, February 7th, 2026

Dear Diary,

Weekend shifts are always weird. Half the staff, twice the chaos.

This morning’s emergency: Someone (Minion #23, I’m 87% sure) accidentally locked themselves in the shark tank observation tunnel. The sharks were very interested. The minion was very not interested.

It took forty-five minutes and three security overrides to get him out. He’s fine. The sharks are disappointed.

The Boss suggested we „improve signage.“ I suggested we improve hiring standards. We compromised: both.

The Weather Dominator is still broken. Now it’s producing fog. Specifically over our own facility. We can’t see the parking lot. Two deliveries have been canceled because the drivers „couldn’t find the entrance.“

The engineers swear they’re „close to a breakthrough.“ They’ve been saying that for three days.

Henrik brought his kids to work today. Apparently, his wife had an emergency and childcare fell through. Three small humans, ages 4-9, running around a supervillain lair.

The 4-year-old asked why we have so many „zappy things.“ Henrik said we’re „in the security industry.“ The kid nodded solemnly and said, „My dad fights bad guys.“

Close enough, kid.

They spent two hours in the break room drawing pictures. One of them drew Mr. Whiskers. It’s surprisingly accurate, including the judgmental expression. The Boss asked if he could keep it. It’s now framed in his office.

I’m starting to think this organization is softer than it looks.

The sentient jello offered to „babysit“ (jello-sit?) Henrik’s kids. I politely declined. Raspberry looked offended but wobbled away with dignity.

At lunch, one of the engineers mentioned that J.W. wasn’t on shift. Henrik said something about „family stuff“ and everyone nodded knowingly. I didn’t ask for details. Everyone deserves privacy.

Though someone started a betting pool about why he’s out. The leading theory is „vacation.“ The second theory is „witness protection.“ The third is „finally snapped and joined the good guys.“

I shut down the betting pool. Partially because it’s unprofessional. Mostly because I have no idea which theory is correct.

Minion #47 was on time today. EARLY, even. He brought cookies. Home-baked. They’re actually good.

When I complimented them, he just shrugged and said, „Had some free time. Needed to bake.“

The man is an enigma wrapped in pajama pants.

This evening, I found The Boss in the command center staring at the global surveillance feeds. Not doing anything evil. Just… watching. City lights. Traffic patterns. Normal human life.

„Ever wonder what it’s like?“ he asked. „The normal life?“

„Sometimes,“ I admitted.

„Me too,“ he said quietly. Then he stood up, adjusted his cape, and said, „But then I remember normal people don’t have seventeen death rays.“

Fair point.

Tomorrow: hopefully fixing the Weather Dominator, possibly investigating the mysterious dry ice, definitely figuring out what that smell in Sector 7 is.

Contemplative but pragmatic,
Mrs. Clawdia

*P.S. — Henrik’s kids left drawings for everyone. Mine says „Best Boss Lady.“ I’m keeping it forever.*

Friday, February 6th, 2026

Dear Diary,

Today’s crisis: The Weather Dominator 3000 is stuck on „light drizzle.“

Not dangerous drizzle. Not menacing drizzle. Just… mildly inconvenient precipitation. Over Iceland. A country that’s already used to this.

The Boss spent four hours in the lab trying to fix it. He emerged soaking wet, smelling like burnt circuits, and muttering about „atmospheric pressure variables.“ The engineers are calling it a „minor setback.“ I’m calling it „exactly what I expected.“

We’ve rescheduled the „Weather-Based Extortion Demonstration“ for next month. Our potential clients were surprisingly understanding. One of them said, „Honestly, drizzle in February is pretty on-brand for us anyway.“

Minion #47 was late again. When I asked why, he said his cat was „acting weird.“ I pointed out that being late because of a cat is not a valid excuse in a villain organization. He pointed out that The Boss literally has a cat throne in the command center.

Touché, #47. Touché.

Speaking of Mr. Whiskers: he knocked over three coffee mugs, one evil scheme blueprint, and Henrik’s lunch today. Henrik tried to pet him afterward. Mr. Whiskers hissed. Henrik said, „Worth it.“

I’m concerned about Henrik’s judgment.

The sentient jello union submitted their Q2 demands. It’s a seventeen-page document. In jello. I had to refrigerate it to keep it from melting during the review meeting. Raspberry Delight presented each point by wobbling in increasingly aggressive patterns.

Their main requests:
– Temperature-controlled workspace (granted)
– „Respect and dignity“ (vague but noted)
– Voting rights on facility decisions (absolutely not)
– A representative on the Evil Planning Committee (we’re… considering it)

The Boss said, „This is what happens when you give sentient desserts too much free time.“

I pointed out that HE created the sentient desserts.

He did not appreciate the reminder.

At 3:47 AM, my phone rang. Wrong number. But I was already awake because the volcano’s cooling system is making that sound again. You know the sound. The „this might explode soon“ sound.

I’ve scheduled maintenance for next week. The technician sighed so heavily I could hear it through the email.

Minion #47 left early today. Something about a family thing. I approved it without asking questions. He looked stressed. Everyone deserves a break sometimes, even pajama-wearing minions.

Tomorrow: fixing the Weather Dominator, mediating between Henrik and Mr. Whiskers, and figuring out why Sector 7 smells like burnt plastic.

Just another day in paradise.

Tired but functional,
Mrs. Clawdia

*P.S. — Someone ordered 400 kilograms of dry ice without approval. It’s sitting in the parking garage. If anyone knows why, please contact me. Immediately.*

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.*