Maggie Discovers Assistant/Atlas, Laughs: 2.37
Many of you long-time readers will remember Maggie as the now-pregnant faithful receptionist of our lil company. As well as being the first line of phone defense, she's also responsible for keeping and cooking Sloane's books. Well, yesterday, she became the first (and I pray, only) person who knows Sloane personally to read my blog (other than me, of course). The quick story is that she caught me doing a bit of blogging at my desk (that tidbit about fun Freudian slips). When I tried to play it off, she only became more interested. Finally, in the interest of keeping her quiet, I took her out to the front part of the office where Sloane can't possibly hear anything and quickly explained the blog and swore her to secrecy.
Oh, please, Maggie, please let you be the good woman I know you are and don't tell Sloane about Assistant Atlas.
Actually, I wasn't quite aware how perceptive Maggie was. Not only could she see right through my lies, but she knew something was up: "I just thought you were getting ready to quit, I just didn't realize you were writing a blog." I asked her if she thought Sloane knew I was getting ready to quit. Maggie doubted Sloane was quite that aware of anything but himself.
So Maggie spent much of the afternoon and randomly laughing out loud, which must've been great for her, but made me a paranoid maniac for most of the day. In some ways, it's great to have someone else in the office who knows about the blog. In other ways, it's made working like living in Rupert Murdoch's penthouse: it's nice and all, but you practically expect a furious beating to come at any time.
Among Maggie's comments about the blog:
"People don't understand Sloane. On the outside, he's a fierce, combative monster. Inside, he's a scared little boy."
Maybe, but that actually makes his outside that much scarier.
You don't look like a little boy to me, Sloane.
"Atlas, why is this sh*t is funny on your blog when it isn't in real life?"
I'm a good writer? Or a sick, sick bastard who can find the humor in anything.
"This may just be the pregnancy hormones, but I feel so much sympathy for you right now."
"Bubbles isn't that dumb as you make her out to be. . .well, almost, I guess."
That's the best defense of Bubbles the over-nice Maggie can muster.
"Oh my God! Sloane is sleeping with Bubbles? No! Jesus. . . it all makes sense now."
My reaction exactly.
Maggie, played by Joan Cusack, now knows all about Atlas' dirty little blog.