My dad says of employees, “Efficiency, I pay for. Respect, I hope to earn, but honesty, I demand.”
It didn’t take long for me to determine I have a thief in one of my coffee shops. Their “wasteage” is astronomical compared with the rest of the group, and the till never balances at the end of the day and is always under.
I put new tills in that are connected directly to me. I can see each ring up, and this woman is clearly undercharging on the till, charging the customer correctly and pocketing the change. She is also dipping into the tips jar, which is unforgivable. Any waitress will tell you how important tips are to their take home pay.
When I bought these five premises, I changed the menus completely, gutted the shops, redecorated, and bought new uniforms. We had a four day training session where I laid it out exactly what I expected, and the staff were trained in the new menu, and other processes I wanted to be followed. This included me telling them that I wasn’t just a ‘boss’. If any member of staff had a problem, personal, financial, whatever, if I could help, I would, and if I couldn’t, I’d make sure they got passed to someone who could.
Actually, I Identified this woman fairly early on. I have spoken to her twice about the shortfalls and the appalling wastage, but nothing has improved. The other girls in that branch also have the tell-tale scared look. They are being bullied into silence and so she had to go.
The day I decided to do the deed, I drove to the store in a pair of jeans and a top. I don’t believe power dressing is necessary. If your own personality can’t bring with it enough weight then you shouldn’t be doing the job.
Once there, straight to it. Fortunately, this store has a tiny little office. Actually it is only a tiny little room with three chairs in it. It isn’t really used, but it would be this morning. I invited her in, told her I had hard evidence that proved she was stealing from the firm and invited her to resign. If she did, I would agree a reference with her. Unfortunately, she felt that I couldn’t actually prove anything, and dared me to fire her. So I did. I do have hard evidence. I wouldn’t be firing her if I hadn’t.
Firing someone isn’t pleasant. It builds up a lot of mental energy. I found my pulse racing and my breathing needed real effort to keep it under control.
Once she’d flounced out, I locked the door and put the closed sign up for a few minutes. I took the other four girls into the staff lounge and told them what I’d done, and, most importantly, that I didn’t blame them in the slightest, but that now I expected to see dramatic improvements. The discharge of tension in the group was palpable. They all came at me in a massive group hug. (They don’t know of my sexuality, so being group hugged by four 20-25 year olds was rather pleasant.) It got more pleasant still when, during the hug, Jenny dropped her hand to my bum and gave it a rather nice squeeze.
They were all jabbering away about what a relief it was, and how now, they stood a chance of really making this place work, when I felt Jenny’s hand curve between my legs. This was no accident. For the first time, I’d been groped, at it felt rather nice.
Panty-wet tingly nice, actually. So they dissipated. Angela went to the shop door to reverse the closed sign to ‘open’, and unlock the door, Claire and Amy went back behind the counter, and within seconds, four customers walked in. Jenny stood there looking at me and said how pleased she was that something had been done. Over her shoulder, I saw the washer/dryer where the girls toss their uniforms at the end of the day, except there were a pair of light blue panties in there. Jenny followed my gaze and looked back at me. “Oh, they’re mine. You know how it is….some days are wetter than others…and by the time I walked here this morning…” I gazed at her, standing there in the uniform dress, probably panty-less! She gave me the cheekiest of grins before telling me she’d better go because clearly, we were starting to get busy.
As she turned away from me, I tried desperately hard to discern whether she was wearing anything under the uniform, but I couldn’t be sure either way. Meanwhile, Miss Brain laughed at me. “You idiot! She may or may not be wearing anything under there. But you do know her wet panties are in the washer! “
No. I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. Even I have limits. It would be inappropriate on many levels. I shouldn’t have allowed Jenny’s cheeky little grope either, but I was too surprised by it. It had happened before I had chance to move, and anyway, there were three other girls there hugging me as well.
Firing someone creates paperwork. The company that processes wages and payroll for me had to be informed, and I did ponder about whether or not I should involve the police. In the end I opted not to, but, because I had to fire her, at least I can decline a reference should I need to.
Business done, I walked outside to my car, feeling a lot lighter than when I walked in. I also found myself soaked! I realised that much of this wetness was there while I was firing my former employee. Jenny’s panties, or rather the sight of them, and knowing they were wet because she told me so did the rest.
I learned something new. Just knowing something can be as effective as actually touching (or smelling) something. I unzipped my jeans and slipped my hand into my panties and had one of the most uncomfortable wanks I’ve had for a long time. Jeans can feel nice, but when your sitting down, they make access a bitch. I wondered if Jenny would pick a quiet moment to slip off to the restroom and have some fun, or maybe she’d save for….hmmm who? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Don’t know….and none of my business anyway.
Didn’t stop me cumming though. I felt the flood happen as well. You can’t squirt when you’ve got jeans and panties tight against you, so instead, it floods a little, and then you gently ooze out what’s left over the next half hour or so. (Well, that’s what happens to me, anyway.)
The last time I had a wank in a pair of tight-fitting jeans was in a cinema. A girl had walked past me who wasn’t overly familiar with the word ‘shower’. She smelled strongly sweaty, and that, for me, is an immense turn on. Owing to the darkness, I had no idea how old she was, but I remembered that I went through a ‘sweaty’ phase when I was 14. Mum had a quiet word and told me that puberty did many things, one of which was to remind a girl that she needed to shower often. The girl who walked past me (twice) hadn’t had that talk.
Miss Brain (hmmmm when I get married, will it be Mrs. Brain?) filled in the blanks and fantasised that the girl was in her mid teens, had just discovered masturbation, and was probably going to the restroom for a quick cum. My hand did the rest, in my panties with my lap covered by my jacket.
The cum I’d just had and the memory it provoked reminded me that I haven’t been to the cinema for a long time…..I wonder what they’re showing?
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