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Old 07-15-2014 at 04:49 AM
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 Post [21] »


Myron Bolitar


It was one of those moments that was like, 'This would happen'. He wasn't even mad. He laughed. Well, he laughed at everything. Funerals. Yeah. no one should ever bring him to a funeral. Being a plus one would be bringing the laugh factory. It wasn't like death was funny, but c'mon… the makeup. The makeup was always hilarious. It was disgusting. Can't we all laugh at that? Anyways. This would happen. Myron Bolitar sighed, looking like a cat trying to catch it's tail. Except, it was his shirt and the threading got caught in his filing cabinet. Well, not in it, just on the handle. He could't reach it, it was surely ripped, and it was all because of Wild Cherry. Listen, 'Play That Funky Music' comes on the radio and his office becomes his personal dance floor. Filing cabinets, however, do not make for a good dance partner. They didn't have tits.

A polite knock on the door made Myron attempt to twist around, but only to hear his lovely orange shirt that probably was making ships come in because of the beacon of glimmer it exuded to shore as he spoke, rip even more. "Dammit in a can!" He muttered, hitting the back of his head against the filing cabinet. Which, you know, made this situation just more of a biznatch…with no tits! Yes, boobies never ceased to be amazing. Not that he was a dog or anything, but he was pretty deprived.

The door cracked open. He had forgotten about that. He was, erm- distracted.

"Mr. Bolitar?"

To make the 'My dad's dead' joke or not… that was the question.

"My name is Bo Robinson and you are going to be very happy to have met me.”

Myron snapped his fingers, attempting to look over his shoulder in a sortive' tango meets the struggle bus. "Oh yeah!" He sang out, "The designer-costumer-thingy-ma-person." He sighed, giving up to look at her. Her voice sounded all pretty so he really wanted to see the entire package. Not that he was a creep but… Lets be real, Myron was a man and loved to see not only who he was interviewing, but a woman.

"I think you're entirely right." He said in exhaustion, giving up his little dance. "I am so happy to meet you, now your first question for this interview is… Can you get me the hell out of this mess?"
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Old 07-15-2014 at 05:37 AM
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 Post [22] »


Bo Robinson

Before the words of her introduction were out of her mouth Bo was already second guessing them. She wanted to come off as confident, certain of her creative prowess and technical skill, but as the words echoed back to her it sounded like she might have tripped that line to cocky. Still, nothing to do about it now but hold her chin high and keep going. Do not screw this up chided a voice in her head. Of course the first place here glance went was the desk opposite the door, it was the most obvious place to look for a manger she assumed. But the desk chair was empty and the next thing she heard was a voice from the corner. "The designer-costumer-thingy-ma-person." Bo blinked in confusion as her gaze landed on the source of the voice. The man in orange shirt was kinda-sorta standing by the filing cabinet though he was turned with his back to her and his arms held at awkward angles, writhing in ever more odd angles trying (apparently) to contort his neck in her direction. She couldn't help but be reminded of a scarecrow in hunter orange standing in the middle of a caberet cornfield. "I think you're entirely right," he said in an exasperated tone as he finally stopped flopping hopelessly in mid-air, "I am so happy to meet you, now your first question for this interview is… Can you get me the hell out of this mess?"

"Get you out of...what?" Max muttered in a baffled tone as she moved past the couch toward the cabinet dropping her purse as she went and approaching with the caution of a timid but perpetually timid kitten. When she finally got close enough to see the thin orange teether that anchored him to the steel cabinet and the unravelling vein that was opening across his back Bo couldn't help herself. "Oh.." she breathed as the realization sank in, and before she could stop herself dissolved into giggles which quickly became all-consuming laughter. Even as she laughed Bo picked her way back to the sofa to retrive the sewing kit she always carried from her purse. "I would ask how you managed that," she teased as she rumaged for the tiny foldable sicissors, "but obviously there are more important matter to contend with..." So how all thought of the 'interview' and the pressing need for professionalism had disappeared in the face of a task to do, a project, and excuse to break out her needle. But as soon 'take over the world' Bo disappeared, 'happy go luck just let me make something' Bo was quick to take her place. Finally finding the tiny tool she rushed back to his side stowing the rest of the kit in the large (and up to this point most orante) pockets on her skirt. Placing a hand on his shoulder to beg him to turn ever so slightly away from her so she could get a better look at the scope of the problem she said distracted, "Such as... " as she spotted the loose corner and the thread that was clinging to it for dear life. She clipped the wayward string free in one deft move and continued, "I need you to promise me you were wearing this shirt with some sort of outrageous blue blazer," she asked solemnly. "Unless of course," she continue rambling happily as she tended to do as she worked, "you were actually trying to achieve the skeezy Florida used-car salesman look," repressing a shudder.

Before he could turn his back from her with his new found freedom Bo reached up to squeeze his shoulder once more, keeping him turned in the direction he was facing. In a few more quick fluid moments Bo had produced a need from her pocket and clipped the rest of the thread free which she was now threading through the needle. "Hold still," she warned putting her hand back on his shoulder and using it to pull herself up on her tiptoes so that she could whisper in his ear mischievously as her chest pressed gently against his back. "If I were a doctor I'd tell you to take the shirt off life support. But fortunately for you, I'm a seamstress not a doctor," she concluded with a giggle and dropped back down to her heel qucikly stitching the ends of the run to keep it from growing. "If you've got a jacket I'll trying to stop the bleeding, so to speak, and it might make it through the night. But I'm afraid I do not have a very promising long term prognosis for it." Bo took a step back to admire her handywork, tilting her head to the side so her dark curls fell around her face and nodding with personal satisfaction before declaring, "There you go!"




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Old 07-15-2014 at 07:31 AM
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 Post [23] »


Thee Myron Bolitar

"Get you out of...what?" Great, was she one of those miracle wonders and was blind? Myron huffed, not knowing how in the hell he could describe what kind of mess he was in. Also, it was pretty impressive if she was a blind design- "Oh." Oh, never mind, she wasn't as wonderful as he thought. He couldn't help but shake his head and smirk as she laughed. Yeah, it was funny. So much for intimidating face he wanted to put on in interviews. Not that he could really pull that off anyways. Myron Bolitar interviews were truly… one of a kind? This, being exhibit A.

He watched as she got right down to work. Automatically, he could tell she was hired. Even though he couldn't see her. See, this should really prove the lack of sexual harassment around these parts. Not that he had to prove it. Well, he did talk like a twelve year old who just found his manhood, so maybe it was worth proving sometimes.

"I would ask how you managed that," The girl with the pretty voice said, Myron hearing a lot of things clinging and clanging together. "but obviously there are more important matter to contend with."

Myron opened his mouth to say something smart ass-

"Such as-"

He shut his mouth. Wow, this girl could really talk. And shut him up. Maybe this was for the best. So, Myron stood quietly and felt her careful hands tugging, clipping, and taking care of his business from behind. Well, that sounded just… wrong.

"I need you to promise me you were wearing this shirt with some sort of outrageous blue blazer," He opened his mouth to speak- "Unless of course," she continue rambling happily as she tended to do as she worked, "you were actually trying to achieve the skeezy Florida used-car salesman look."

Hold the friggin' phone. Did she just take a jab at his outfit? His eyes widened and he wickedly smirked. So, someone could really match his smart ass and the first interview? She was impressive.

Myron opened his mouth to retort-

But then titties happened. Real actual ones. She pressed against his back, her hand gripping his shoulder. That made him quiet. He didn't want to be that guy or that pervert, but c'mon, he had a thingy.

"Hold still. If I were a doctor I'd tell you to take the shirt off life support. But fortunately for you, I'm a seamstress not a doctor."

She giggled and continued-how shocking-talking.

"If you've got a jacket I'll trying to stop the bleeding, so to speak, and it might make it through the night. But I'm afraid I do not have a very promising long term prognosis for it."

Although she was talking a lot, Myron's smirk hadn't dropped. Then…

"There ya go!"

"Free at last, God almighty I am free at last." Myron sang out, spinning around and finally getting a glimpse of chatty-put-her-chesticles-against-him-seamstress. And boy was she a sight. So bright. Dark haired. Like a China doll, but less creepy at night if she were hanging on a shelf. In fact, Myron Bolitar wouldn't mind if she were sitting on his shelf at night- Alrighty. And this is where that stopped.

"Congrats, my dear." He said with a grin, "You saved my life, managed to get hired, and managed to keep me quiet with all your talking for five minutes."

He winked, sitting at the edge of his desk and folding his arms. She looked something out of a children's book. It was amusing. Her personality was something that he could get use to having around. "And easy on my choice of clothes. I almost wanna ask where your sheep are with that dress, Little Bo."
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Old 07-15-2014 at 08:22 PM
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 Post [24] »


Bo Robinson

"Free at last, God almighty I am free at last." The owner said in a sing-song voice eliciting another giggle of amusement from Bo as he spun around to face her. "Congrats, my dear." he said with a grin, and Bo nodded and pretended to curtsey slightly in playful acknowledgement of the complement "You saved my life, managed to get hired, and managed to keep me quiet with all your talking for five minutes." Bo was halfway raised from her curtsey and found herself stalled slightly, caught off guard, and blinking slightly. Pulling herself up straight the smile faltered on her face as Bolitar perched himself on the edge of his desk and winked at her playful. Instead of reacting to the flirtatious greeting her brow furrowed slightly, still feeling a little stunned and uncertain. Had he just said that she was hired? Just like that? Was she supposed to be flattered? Excited? Somewhere in the back of her mind was a small voice telling her to take the win and run but that voice was quickly being shouted down by a rising indigence that was telling it shut the hell up. "And easy on my choice of clothes,” he continued drawing her out of her confused thought, “I almost wanna ask where your sheep are with that dress, Little Bo."

The smile that twisted her lip in reply to quip was less playful than before and failed to reflect in her dark eyes. “Ha,” she retorted in a mock laugh, “Peep, right?” she said sarcastically as a light fist perched itself on her hip, “Oh. How. Funny.” she said in a deadpan montone as a far more alive flash of anger flashed in her eyes, “do you write your own material?” Bo gave him a sneering smile before stomping over to the couch and snatching her iPad from her purse. “I mean you have to be a comedian, not a very good, but defiantly a comedian,” her octave of her voice was rising slightly with her temper. “Because I know you have to be joking about me being hired,” she said in a dark tone with a barking sarcastic laugh as she stomped back to his desk standing dangerously close as she thrust the tablet into his hands. “There’s no way I could be hired as a designer when you haven’t even seen my designs… is there?” her voice had dropped to a whisper with proximity as she arched a single eyebrow at him and cross her arms defiantly. “I can understand the confusion,” she said in a tone of edgy teasing, “but I’m not actually here to apply to be some sort of bimbo secretary who gets you out of ridiculous messes.”




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Name: Erica | Gender: woman- hear me roar! | Posts: 2,032 | Roses: 181
Old 07-18-2014 at 05:07 PM
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 Post [25] »


Myron Bolitar

Okay, so tough crowd. Myron watched Lil Bo's expression change into one that was not so amused like had been when she walked in. Really, he should have known. Women were so uptight when it came to their looks. One small comment, and boom, it was like you compared them to a polka dotted elephant with HIV. She was a costume designer though, so she probably took pride in her clothes. Still, don't mess with Myron Bolitar's looks.

“Ha,” Myron's expression died flat like a tired that just popped at her mocking monotone look. Christ, he had seen that look so many times on a woman's face. Should he be proud of his track record or a little worried that he would, in fact, never be laid again? “Peep, right?" Wow, she was a quick one. “Oh. How. Funny. Do you write your own material?” The Rouge manager stared at her, not entertained at her sassy little ways. Were they going to get along or not? Myron took pride in his Rouge being a place where people could get along, and actually want to go to work. The last thing he needed was a peppy, sing songity, sarcastic pebble to be pissing off the costume team- have the costumes get all messed up and then have the dancers be mad onstage. Theatre was like a cycle. One person had the power to make another person unhappy in another department, who would then take it out on someone else in another depart- Yeah, the picture is gotten. Obviously he was kidding about her being hired right away, but now he was beginning to realize just how kidding he was.

“Because I know you have to be joking about me being hired,”Myron folded his arms over his chest, watching her stride up to him in a confident air with her I-whatever the hell. There were so IPads/Pods/Phones/Toilets- he really couldn't keep up. “There’s no way I could be hired as a designer when you haven’t even seen my designs… is there?

Here comes the never ending chitter chatter. Myron sighed, perching himself more on his desk.

“I can understand the confusion, but I’m not actually here to apply to be some sort of bimbo secretary who gets you out of ridiculous messes.”

Myron Bolitar stared at Lil' Bo for a bit. It wasn't that he didn't like her, it wasn't that her joke was funnier than his and they were comparing joke d*cks here, but he wasn't about to be talked to like that in his office, kidding aside or not. This was an interview. He was kidding and being friendly, and he wasn't sure he had gotten more than three words out in the past five minutes.

With a soft hand, Myron pushed the top of her Ipad back to her. "Listen, don't dish it out and not take it. And don't talk to me like that. I understand you are a confident woman with a lot of talent, but also, remember that in business, there is a certain amount of ass kissing when it comes to interviews." He told her, not in a ass way, but just in an advice way.

"I'm guilty. I set the tone by being molested by my filing cabinet." He said with a sigh and then a light smirk, "So lets rewind- How about you come in the office again and I'll actually sit down like a regular human being, and we try this again."


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Old 07-21-2014 at 07:08 AM
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 Post [26] »


Bo Robinson

Bo could feel her conviction and self-righteous anger dwindling with every moment of silence that ticked by as her words echoed around the small office and rebounded at her. She was right she knew she was right. Wasn’t she? She didn’t want the job if she wasn’t going to be taken seriously, and saying she was hired based on some odd meet/cute was no taking her work seriously. In fact is had actually nothing to do with her work at all. But it was a job and a job was a job and maybe she should have just kept her big mouth closed. As maddening as the self-doubt was in the that pin-drop silence, be it hours or micro-seconds, it was actually the silence itself that seemed like she could literally feel pushing against the inside of her ears. When he pushed her iPad back into her hands and stood up her stomach dropped to the vicinity of the shoes… and then continued to tumble towards the basement (if this place even had a basement.

"Listen, don't dish it out and not take it. And don't talk to me like that. I understand you are a confident woman with a lot of talent, but also, remember that in business, there is a certain amount of ass kissing when it comes to interviews." Okay lets be honest that could have been a lot worse, she tried telling herself. He could have outright kicked her out. He could laughed in her face, or screamed, or scolded. He could have said anything in a hundred worse ways. So why was there a small voice in the back of her head screaming frantically RUN!? Because for all her talk, for all her confidence in who she was in people laughed at her self-discovery, or her dreams, or the clothes she wore, or the talent she held so dear, at the end of the day Bo was a 19 year old girl, alone a long way from home taking the big gamble of her life, and deep down she was terrified.

"I'm guilty. I set the tone by being molested by my filing cabinet." he said with a sigh and smirk that she surmised was supposed to be nice and reassuring but through no fault of his own, didn’t help all that much. "So lets rewind- How about you come in the office again and I'll actually sit down like a regular human being, and we try this again." Bo gripped the side of her tablet tight trying to keep her hands from shaking as she turned away from him shaking her head slightly. She didn’t know if he meant that literally or figuratively but she knew she couldn’t do that. If she allowed herself to walk out that door, the fear would take over and she would run like hell and he would most likely never see hide nor hair of her again. And she couldn’t do that either. It was all there, right in her hands. Her designs the reason she was here, she could discard a lot of things out of embarrassment and self-pity, but not that… not her dreams.

She fixed her eyes on the couch and her purse and, once he couldn’t see the contortions of her face any longer attempted to rally her nerve by doing the one thing she could always do, talk. “I don’t care about the joke, Mr. Bolitar, I really don’t. You think you’re the first person to call me Little Bo Peep? Hardly. The jokes been done so many times I even have a patented response. I usually tell them to think more Bo Derek and less Bo Peep. See, it doesn’t faze me. But I do take this seriously, very seriously. This interview, my work, you despite your physical attraction to office furniture,” she had reached the couch and had nowhere to go other than to finally turn around and face the music, or the man, or whatever metaphor you wanted to graft onto this horrible situation. Bo took a deep breath and finally spun on her heel, clutching her tablet to her chest and trying not to let her voice shake as the nerves crept back over her at the sight of him, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “You want to start over, fine, but only on the condition that you take me seriously as well. Only if you actually look at my designs and base the decision on that. Not how well I crack jokes or take a joke, cause I can do both but neither is why I’m here.”




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