SEXIS WRONG

We work in porn, but we’re primarily a marketing company.
And like every other marketing company, we have meetings.
Creative meetings and concept meetings and blue sky meetings
and review meetings and results meetings and monthly
employee meetings and feedback meetings and consultant
meetings and—the mother of all meetings—team meetings.
This type of meeting is porn-free. This is the exchange of carnality
for bloodshed. This is the platform where we discuss
the progress and regress of our team. This is where we’re
trained to use euphemisms: Concern, not anger. Assumption,
not gossip. Improvement, not complaint. Adult videos,
not porn. Come, not cum. Great sex, not fucking.
At this point, I’ve watched at least
6,240 hours of porn, and that’s
just for work.
After ten years, I’ve spent $316,495 on psychotherapy for
manic depression. But the team meeting is free. It’s group
therapy for the psychoses that arise from dealing with sex
as a commodity. Although the team loathes these biweekly
appointments, the sessions will prove invaluable for the rest
of our lives.
Now I’ve become more functional as a Sex World employee
than I ever was on the therapy chaise lounge. So I quit my
shrink and started spending her $150 hourly fee on cocktails,
computers, books, and clothes. I love the team meeting.
—
11:30 – Noon: Write copy for new lingerie products
while continuing to observe the aggravating courtship
between ex-boyfriend coworker and his latest girlfriend
coworker.
A year into my job, I began a time-consuming affair with a
fellow Sex Worlder. Our attraction was based on four crucial
details:
1. We both had Todd McFarlane action figures of Leatherface
on our desks.
2. We both wore Ramones T-shirts on the day we noticed
each other.
3. We both were nursing heartbreaks with a lover’s elixir
of booze and barbiturates.
4. We both were raincoaters fostering our porn addictions
with grudge-fucking.
It’s impossible to keep illicit romances secret inside an office—especially
when the office is stocked with more explicit
material than any secular citizen should see. I’ve summed up
this year and a half of interoffice drama in one universal chunk
of wisdom: Kids, don’t fuck your coworkers.
—
Noon – 12:30 p m : Scarf down your lunch while screening
comp porn that makes your brain wince.
Ah, the power lunch: unmonitored excursions filled with sushi
and roasted duck over a bed of baby bok choy, topped
off with Grey Goose martinis and industry gossip. Glamorous
café settings where Armani-suited pornographers negotiate
exchanges of footage for funds. Where more ass is kissed
than in any analingus video.
But, sadly, not so.
I eat ramen noodles at my desk, with a plastic fork in one hand
and a remote control in the other. My lunch hours are spent
simultaneously writing copy and watching
shitty porn. These videos are called “comps,”
and they’re the worst kind of porn: choppedup
footage from existing productions, badly
edited and unworthy of masturbation. I save
these comps for lunchtime to balance how much they suck
with the pleasures of Cup o’ Noodles. And that’s my power
lunch.
—
12:30 – 1:00 p m : Taste-test the new Spanish fly gels and
try not to gag on flavors like Iced Tea and Mulberry Delight.
Knock out nine descriptions for products like the
White Poon Pecker and the Black Cock Dong. Admire the
equal opportunities for jelly dongs at Sex World.
After twelve years of marketing, I believe you can bundle
vomit in a pink satin bag and make people believe they can’t
live without it.
Be Sexy. Be Sick.
Lose Your Lunch in Our Heavenly
Pink Puke Bag!
I used to feel guilty for writing copy that lied about how every
dildo was unique, every comp was a high-quality production,
every lingerie garment was as soft as Japanese silk, and how
every liquid stimulant with an exotic blend of ginseng and L-
arginine could make the most frigid clitoris reach orgasm at a
whisper’s flutter.
But when I saw how many stock dildos and comp videos
and scratchy negligees and genital gels our customers purchased,
I realized that writing copy isn’t lying. Sometimes
people believe more in the idea of the dildo than what the
dildo actually is. No matter how foolish or unnecessary or
cheap a product might be, it makes someone happy. And
that’s what matters.
—
1:00 – 1:10 p m : Receive call from father. Halfway into conversation,
remember to mute the moaning and scream-
178 EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT SEX IS WRONG