The Executive Officers Meet My Wife
By Wanderer
What's it like to report to a female chief executive officer?


This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 21 or laws in
your country forbid you to do so. Any similarity to actual persons, living or
dead, is unintentional and purely coincidental.

Earlier parts of this story are scattered all over the Wanderer bookshelf.
They should be read in the following order:

Who's In the Closet Now? (Parts 1, 2, and 3).

We're Back In the Closet Again (Parts 1 and 2).

The Engagement Party (Parts 1 to 5).

The Engagement Party-Epilogue (Parts 1 and 2).

5.) The Engagement Party-Epilogue Two (Part 1.)

My Big Deal Social Wedding.

Marriage Can Be Fun? (Parts 1 to 4).

The Board of Directors Meets My Wife.

The Executive Officers Meet My Wife.

Copyright 2003 by Wanderer.

My wife Janice didn't waste any time solidifying her position. The day after
the Board of Directors of the Witherington's company had voted my wife, Janice
Witherington, president and chief executive officer of the company, my wife
marched in promptly at 8:00a.m. onto the executive office floor. The female
secretaries were all lined up along the side of the aisle smiling and laughing
and applauding as Janice walked down the aisle to her new office, her four
inch heels authoritatively announcing her arrival as the sound of the heels
striking the marble floor echoed through the room. Strangely, none of the male
executives joined the secretaries to welcome their new boss, nor did they look
up from the work on their desks to even smile in greeting.

Janice took note, and when she was seated comfortably behind her massive desk
and had removed her suit jacket to expose her brawny twenty-two inch arms she
determined that the first order of business was to have a conference with all
the high ranking company executives on the floor. Janice said to her personal
assistant, Angie Peters, as she stood diffidently by the door, awaiting
Janice's first order, "Get those assholes in here, right now!"

Ms. Peters knew exactly what Janice meant. With a broad smile on her face she
went to each of the senior executive's desks, and said, "Oh, our new president
and CEO would like to see you now."

Some grudgingly arose from their seats, others said they were just too busy at
the moment, the new president would have to wait, and a couple said if the new
president wanted to talk to them she would have to come see them, they were
too busy to drop what they were doing to satisfy the new CEO's whim.

When those executives who were willing to come to the new president's office
were assembled in front of her, Janice looked them over and took note of the
missing ones. Janice said to Angie, "Some of my executives aren't here, where
are they?"

Angie responded. They were too busy to come right now, but they said you could
come see them if you wanted to."

Janice looked up at Angie and with a gentleness and sweetness to her voice she
requested Angie give a message to the recalcitrant executives. "Angie," Janice
said, "would you please relay a message for me?"

"Of course, ma'am," said Angie.

"Kindly tell them they're fired!"

Angie, glee in her voice, said, "Oh, yes ma'am, right away, with pleasure!"
And she went off to convey the news to the men who had so frequently treated
her with disrespect and disdain.

In the meantime a murmur of disbelief ran through the executives who had
assembled in front of Janice's desk. "Things are going to change around here,
gentlemen, your personal expense accounts will be examined closely, there will
be no more three hour lunches, and no one will be permitted to take Wednesday
and Friday afternoons off to play golf. Is that understood?"

Again a murmur of disbelief ran through the assembled executives. "But these
have always been our perqs," one of the executives standing in the back said.

"Tough shit," Janice said. "We've got new rules."

I, as a senior vice president in the company, was also present, standing near
the back, taking all this in, and some of the executives were beginning to
cast angry glances at me. An executive vice president, standing right in front
of me, turned his head around to look at me, and growled, "Can't you control
your bitch, dumb ass?"

I wanted to hit him, but I had to work with these people, so I just stood
there, my face turning red with anger, but I held myself in check. But not
Janice. She heard him. She got up from her chair and stood in front of the
man. Her 5'10" height and her four inch heels brought her up to 6'2", but the
man towered over her by a good four inches.

"What did you just call me?" she asked, sweetness in her voice.

"A bitch!" the EVP replied. "Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!" he reiterated, petulantly.

Her hand was so fast it was like a blur. After all, Jan was trained in karate
and all forms of martial arts, and she was good at it. She sank her right fist
into his gut up to the wrist. As he doubled over in pain she put her right
shoulder into his midsection and easily lifted his two hundred fifty pounds up
off the floor. It was fascinating to watch her twenty inch calves flex with
the added weight as she carried the offending executive to the door of the
office and heaved him into the aisle.

"Call the janitor and have the trash removed," she said, to no one in
particular. The other executives stood there, mouths open. Few had been aware
of Janice's physical training background. All they knew was that the senior
Mr. Witherington, founder of the company, had a very beautiful daughter,
somewhat spoiled and pampered was the rumor, and that her husband, meaning me,
was now a senior vice president in the company, probably nepotism, even though
I had an M.B.A. from a prestigious university. I was ostracized from the
executive group, no one wanting me running back to the family and telling
tales, so I was kind of glad to see the EVP get his. Besides which, hopefully,
maybe I could get his job and be an executive vice president instead of a
senior vice president.

Janice returned to her seat and silently evaluated the men standing in front
of her. They shifted uneasily from foot to foot, not sure of what was coming
next. Finally, one of them spoke up. "I resign!" he snarled.

If he was expecting an argument from Janice he didn't get one. "Fine," she
said, "your secretary, or as we call them now, your personal assistant, will
take over your position. I'm sure she is well acquainted with the requirements
of your job, she's probably doing most of it anyway while you are out on three
hour lunches and playing golf Wednesday and Friday afternoons. Oh, and by the
way, since you are resigning there will be no severance pay and your pension
is hereby revoked, as are your stock options."

The man stood there, in shock. He had expected Janice to plead with him to
stay, maybe even offer him a raise in pay from his five hundred thousand
dollar a year salary. "B---b---but---my mortgage," he stammered, "the country
club, my children's private schools, my wife's jewelry, how will we survive?"

"Oh, that shouldn't be any problem, Mr. Silverstone, I'm sure you took all
that into consideration before you resigned just now," Jan said.

Mr. Silverstone had no desire to admit he was an idiot so he began to alibi.
"I was merely testing your resolve to see if you can make important
decisions," he lied. "Naturally, we need a leader who is decisive, like your
father was. You passed my test."

"How nice for me," my wife said, matter-of-factly. "Now please clear out your
desk. You have fifteen minutes. I'll even have Security assist you. Angie,"
she addressed her secretary in a calm tone, "please call Security to assist
Mr. Silverstone."

Mr. Silverstone was beside himself with anger. "This is outrageous---" he
blustered, before Janice stopped him in mid-sentence.

"Mr. Silverstone, I know you're used to making important spur of the moment
decisions. Therefore I know your statement that you resign was not gratuitous,
and so I accept your resignation. Now please get out before I throw you out!"

Bob Thatcher, the executive vice president in charge of the International
Division, piped up. "You have to understand, we were expecting the Board of
Directors to appoint your brother as new president and CEO of the company. It
comes as somewhat of a shock to us to see his younger sister, and a woman, to
be the person we now report to. I have never reported to a woman in my entire
business career," he stated, with a distinct emphasis on the word "never."

"Get used to it," my wife responded. "And as for my brother, well, he just
wasn't up to it," she snickered.

Only I, standing there in front of my wife with the other EVPs and senior VPs,
knew what had happened. My wife had beaten up most of the directors of the
board so that for the sake of self-preservation they had voted her in as the
new head of the company (See "The Board of Directors Meets My Wife"), even
though they had fully intended that it be her brother, James Pettigrew
Witherington III. Things had changed at the Witherington company. The male
executives who remained were now at risk, all of them, except maybe for me,
her husband, and her brother, who I'm sure Janice would allow to retain his
EVP position, even if he wasn't to be the new president and CEO of the
company.

Detecting no further dissent from the remaining executives who stood humbled
in front of my wife, Janice concluded the meeting. "That will be all,
gentlemen. Those executives who were too busy to come and pay their respects
to the new president and CEO of the company will be leaving. They have no
further authority within this company and you are not to communicate with
them. According to the by-laws of this company, upon resignation or
nonfeasance these executives forfeit their pensions, health benefits, and
stock options in the company. Their duties will be assumed by their
secretaries or personal assistants who will be required to attain a high level
of performance, equal to or better than that of the male executives they are
replacing. Make no mistake. All the executives, male or female, will be
required to contribute to the well-being of the company. Mr. Frank Thomas
Witherington (me) will replace the just resigned Mr. Silverstone as executive
vice president in charge of U.S. operations."

Wow, I got my promotion! EVP! I didn't expect to get it from Janice because of
charges of nepotism from wife to husband. I felt it would have to come from my
brother-in-law, Jim, a more distant relationship. I glanced over at Mr.
Silverstone, and he was looking positively apoplectic. Some of the other
executives who had been cold to me, feeling I had achieved my senior vice
presidency my marrying into the Witherington family, which is probably quite
true, now turned around to mumble their congratulations, frozen smiles on
their faces.

Janice resumed. "By the way, gentlemen, I have heard rumors that some of you
feel my husband, Frank Thomas Witherington, has achieved his position of
senior vice president because of his relationship with me and my family.
Nothing could be further from the truth. He has his MBA from my university and
he has proved himself to my satisfaction by his four years of dedicated
service within the company. He has earned his appointment to the EVP position
of the just-resigned Mr. Silverstone. Let me assure you that he will be held
to the same high standards that I will require of all my high level
executives." Darn! It looks like I'm going to have to work my ass off!

Janice continued. "Mr. Frank Thomas Witherington is to be treated with the
respect expected for someone in his position of authority. If he is to be
disrespected it will be by me and not you. Anyone who shows him a lack of
respect will answer to me. Dismissed! Oh, and by the way," the new president
and CEO addressed the Armani-clad backs of the retreating executives, "my
brother will be out for a while on sick leave," and she couldn't suppress her
giggle.

Only I knew that Jim's sick leave was required because he was at home
recovering from the shock he had suffered when he learned that the board of
directors had appointed his sister to lead the company, and not him. In one
morning my wife had changed the face of the leadership of the company from
male to female. As more of the male executives found it demeaning to be
reporting to a female CEO Jan moved the female executives into the top
executive positions of the company.

So Janice was shocked when she received the sales figures for her first
quarter as CEO. Gross sales had fallen precipitously. "My God," she thought,
"am I a failure? Maybe my brother is right, maybe he should be CEO. Maybe a
woman should not lead a Fortune 500 company." Janice was really troubled. She
didn't want the family company collapsing because of her. So that evening she
and her sister-in-law, Maddy, put their heads together and talked about it.

"Since this drop in sales has occurred after you put female executives in
charge at some of the divisions why don't you call them in for an interview?"
her sister-in-law offered.

So that's what Jan did, one at a time. First up was Barbara Simmons, in charge
of production. "What's going on, Babs?" Janice asked. "Production is off 27%
and we're running out of product. How can we book sales if we don't have
product to sell?"

Barbara got defensive. "My assistant, Bob Pratt, told me the workers on the
production line don't like me because I'm making them work forty hours. He
says I need to give them more coffee and bathroom breaks, like maybe four or
six a day, instead of just two a day."

Janice was astonished. "Why are you listening to Bob Pratt?" she asked.

"Well, Bob is a man. He probably knows better what's going on than I do. I'm
only a woman."

Janice couldn't believe her response. "Why do you think I put you in charge?"
she asked.

"Because I was there?" Ms. Simmons offered.

Janice accepted this explanation in silence and called in Agatha Parsons, her
newly appointed head of the South American division. "Aggie, your sales are
off 14% for the quarter, what's going on?"

Ms. Parsons stood in front of the CEO, trembling, tears coming to her eyes.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she mumbled through clenched lips. "I---I---well, I---
oh, dear, oh, dear. Well, I'm afraid to sign off on contracts, I might make a
mistake and you'll get mad at me. But I have the contracts sitting on my
desk," she added, a hopeful tone to her voice.

The CEO had heard enough. That very night she sat down again with her
sister-in-law to talk over the responses she had received. It was obvious that
the problem was that the new women executives, although there was no question
of their competence, having learned their new roles by observing how their
bosses had performed their responsibilities, nevertheless were timid, afraid
to give orders to the men who functioned beneath them, or to make a decision.
My wife Janice was frustrated. She knew the women could do the job if only she
could get them to step forward and take charge. "Help me out, Maddy," she
begged her sister-in-law. "We need to get these women to break out of their
shells. They're so afraid to say anything to the men who work for them. We
need to give them more confidence in themselves."

"Leave it to me," Maddy said.

"The next morning an official memo went out from the office of the CEO. "All
women in the employ of this company who hold the office of assistant vice
president and above will report to the company gymnasium promptly at 7:00a.m.
next Monday morning, and every morning thereafter. There will be no acceptable
excuses. Failure to comply with this memo will be cause for immediate
dismissal."

There was consternation amongst all the women affected, but not one of them
was about to give up their exalted position for just an extra hour of sleep in
the morning. Promptly at 7:00a.m. every female executive was present in the
company gym, gossiping loudly amongst themselves, comparing their cute little
designer workout outfits bought especially for this occasion. All of a sudden
an authoritative voice rang out. "Line up!" it snapped.

The chattering women were startled, but immediately hastened to comply. The
voice sounded like it came from a drill sergeant who had had a bad night. They
lined up in single file, facing front.

So here comes this short 5'6" woman walking down the line of high ranking
female executives, wearing a simple, heavy sweatshirt at this early and cold
hour of the morning, in sharp contrast to the elegance of the designer clad
women executives. She carefully inspected each woman standing in line,
stopping every once in a while to pinch a gut. When she got to the end of the
line she moved to stand in front of them.

"You're all a bunch of wimps!" she summarized as she was taking off her
sweatshirt. "You have no stamina! You have no muscles! You can't make a
decision! You have no self-confidence! You go home to a husband who tells you
what to do! Your fourteen year old sons threaten you with physical violence.
Your twelve year old daughters tell you to fuck off! You take it! By God,
that's all going to change, starting today!"

By this time Maddy, the newly appointed gymnasium supervisor, my wife's
sister-in-law, and my sister, had removed her sweatshirt and stood in front of
the gathered female executives. A collective gasp arose from the group as
Maddy's humongously large twenty-five inch biceps came into view. A second
gasp went up as Maddy put her left arm on her hip and flexed her right bicep.
Now when Maddy flexes a bicep grown men have been known to faint. Well,
almost. It was peaky, veiny, in a nice sort of way, and almost too large to
believe.

"You may not have muscles like this," she snapped, "but by God, you WILL have
muscles!" You WILL have self-confidence. You WILL go home and tell your
husbands and your children the agenda. Who will do what tomorrow. Who cooks
dinner! Who cleans the house! You will come home to an orderly and disciplined
household! That's my promise to you. Oh, you may have to break a few heads to
start with. Your husband's of course, not your children. But when your kids
see your husbands obeying your directives your kids will understand that yours
is the voice of authority. Time outs and stress caused by your bratty juvenile
delinquents will be a thing of the past!

"Ladies, let me introduce myself. I am the new gymnasium supervisor. Now, in
case you think my role is that of instructor only, let me tell you that my
official title is Principal Assistant to the President and Chief Executive
Officer of the Witherington company. I have the authority to terminate any or
all of you on the spot. Yes, that's right. So anybody who thinks they are
going to dog their way through this intense physical training is in for a
surprise. Ladies, I expect maximum effort. Your $500,000 a year salaries are
on the line!"

Murmurs of disbelief arose from the assembled executives. Dissent seemed about
to break out. But Maddy was prepared. "Who is the heaviest woman here?" she
snapped.

A series of mumblings arose amongst the women. Finally, a tall but obviously
overweight woman stepped forward. "I think I might be," she offered. "I weigh
two hundred sixty pounds."

"Well, I'm going to take one hundred pounds off you," Maddy said. "Come here!"
she ordered. The woman approached her timidly.

"Can you do a half squat, bend your knees a little?" Maddy asked.

"Well, I---I---think so," she said, as she squatted a little, teetering with
the effort required to keep from losing her balance and falling over.

Maddy put her right hand under the woman's ass and with one heave raised the
woman to full arm's length over her head.

"You see?" Maddy asked. Do you think I'm scared of my husband, who just
happens to be James Pettigrew Witherington III, executive vice president of
this company and brother of the president and chief executive officer, Janice
Witherington? Hell, no, and by the time I'm finished with each of you ladies
you're going to go home and tell your husbands what the schedule is for the
evening. Including sex," she giggled.

Suddenly remembering that she was still holding the two hundred sixty pound
female executive over her head on the palm of her right arm Maddy lowered her
to the floor. The woman seemed quite relieved to be on terra firma again as
she realized there was a distinct possibility of broken bones had her
ponderous weight crashed to the floor. "Back in line!" Maddy ordered the
woman.

"All right, ladies, let's begin! First up, a warm up, calisthenics!

Jumping jacks! Hup, two, three, four, hup, two, three, four!" Well, the
gymnasium floor shook with the pounding it was taking from forty-two
overweight female executives, some of them obesely so. Just as they were about
to drop Maddy said, "OK, ladies, that's it! Stop!" They all headed for the
exit doors when Maddy stopped them in their tracks. "Now where the hell do you
all think you're going? We're just ten minutes into our one hour session.
We've got another fifty minutes!" Collective groans went up from the women.
"Now, we're going to run around the gym perimeter. Run! Run! Run!" They all
knew that Maddy meant business, they could see from her superb body evidence
of what dedication to a physical regimen could do, besides which their half
million dollar a year salaries were on the line, so Maddy got grudging
cooperation.

But my sister was very clever about how she went about training these women.
The company gym was one of the best equipped in the country, with multiple
sets of weights. First off, Maddy would give each woman a dumbbell set of five
pound weights. "Here," she would say, just hold these at your side and then
slowly bring them up to your chest. OK, you can do that, now do it ten times.

"Wow, that was easy," the women would say. "I didn't know that working out was
such a snap."

"All right you did that good, now try these, they're only six pounds," Maddy
said. But Maddy had cleverly covered up the weight markings on the dumbbells.
Actually they were seven and one-half pounds. The women, thinking they were
only slightly heavier, went about doing another ten reps.

Day after day, Monday to Friday, the women executives showed up to work out.
Dumbbell curls, barbell curls, Preacher curls, lat pull downs, squats-- -you
name it, my sister had them doing it all. By the end of each hour the women
were exhausted, but totally invigorated and energized.

Maddy kept the weight markings covered up. Only she knew the true weight. By
the end of the first three months the women were dumbbell curling twenty- five
pounds. At least they thought it was twenty-five pounds. Actually, they were
fifty pound dumbbells but only Maddy knew that. And the barbell curls that the
women thought they were doing with ninety pound weights were actually one
hundred fifty pounds. But you don't make gains like that on gym workouts
alone. A lot of women can go to a gym for twenty years and never build a
single solitary muscle. In addition to the weights Maddy knew how to use diet,
nutrition, vitamins, supplements, increasing weight resistance, and
psychology. She had been through it all herself, and she knew how to do it.
She produced amazing results. In three months there was visible change, and as
the female executives grew noticeable muscles they became more confident.
These were supposed to be high powered women who were more into decision
making than home making or they wouldn't have been Witherington company
executives. They were supposed to be decisive and aggressive. Both Maddy and
Jan figured they had a higher than average level of female testosterone in
their biological makeup, and that their bodies would respond quickly to the
stress of physical exercise. Under the tutelage of my sister all the women
made amazing strides. It wasn't long before we began to hear stories about how
some of the women executives began taking over at home, much to the chagrin of
their weak, out of shape husbands.

My wife Janice, in her role as president and CEO of the Witherington company,
joined the early morning workouts when she was not away on a business trip.
She worked constantly to build up the egos and self-esteem of her women
executives. "You can do it!" she would say. "C'mon, ladies, we need to build
up our endurance. I want you all fresh and fit and ready to give 110% at all
times!" She encouraged them to spend extra time in the gym, beyond the morning
sessions, even letting them work out on company time. With Janice's
encouragement, and the physical training the women were getting from my sister
Maddy, you could see their backs start to straighten and their shoulders
square up. To give these women the extra self- confidence they needed Maddy
knew a secret. Concentrate heavily on chest workouts. Strengthen their
pectoral muscles, make them grow, and inevitably their breasts would lift up
and out and become more prominent. That was wonderful for building up their
self-confidence! And getting the full attention of their male subordinates!

Male executives were also invited to participate at the gym, but since my
sister tailored the sessions and nutrition regimen to what she knew best,
namely her own training and conditioning, it was the women who made the
greatest strides. Some of the women took to the training like ducks to water.
They never realized they could have muscles, and many of them gloried in their
development. They would walk around the executive halls in short sleeve
blouses, tensing their arms and giggling, chest thrown out to emphasize their
newly restructured pectoral muscles and breasts. They loved teasing the men.
As a matter-of -fact, it wasn't long before some of the males who reported to
these women were walking around with perpetual hardons.

My wife and my sister both were excellent at building confidence in the women,
and some of the women made extraordinarily unbelievable strides, whereas the
male executives found it harder and harder to cope with these self-confident
women. In addition to our gym being well stocked with every type of
bodybuilding equipment available, there were all kinds of amenities.
Television sets were spotted all over the walls and a big 65" high definition
set was at one end of the gym. So here comes this big bozo executive vice
president deciding he's going to move one of the stationery exercise bikes
right in front of the set, blocking everyone's view of the 65" set. This
little 5'2" female assistant vice president doing five hundred pound squats
yells out, "Tony, move, I can't see!"

He says, "Go screw yourself!"

She puts her weight down, walks over to where the 6'5" two hundred forty- five
pound exec is peddling the bike, puts one hand under the seat and the other on
the handlebars, picks up the exercise bike with the executive still on it and
carries the whole burden over to a corner at the other end of the room where
he can see a 15" TV set. Her biceps bunched up and looked like they were going
to bust through her skin with the effort. Her heavily striated thick quads
swelled up with the extra load, the guy's two hundred forty-five pounds and
the weight of the bike easily fifty pounds, but then she could squat five
hundred pounds so three hundred pounds was no big deal. The guy is so shocked
he keeps peddling away the whole time he's being carried to the corner. He
never showed up at the gym again. He was so embarrassed by the gossip around
the water cooler that he offered his resignation the next week.

So did the women become better executives? You bet! Did the company benefit?
You bet! But other things changed in their lives, too, and in my life also.
And that's coming up next.