Jami Song stomped angrily across the parking lot, the narrow heels of her knee-high stiletto boots clicking with each footfall. The gorgeous little Korean-American woman had never really been a morning person anyways, and something had obviously pissed her off and started her off on the wrong foot this morning as well.
Petite, she was only 5 foot 2, but tended to compensate for her lack of height by wearing preposterously high heels. A life-long fashionista, she paired her black boots with a set of black patterned hose that highlighted the smooth contours of her lovely little legs. The hem of her gray mini-skirt fell high on those lovely hosed legs thighs, it's fabric clinging to curves of her delightful little tush. A tight, thin, green sweater clung to her upper body, showing off her trim little waist and perky little breasts. She'd tossed her expensive, enormous black handbag over her shoulder as she stomped toward the building, her expertly coiffed dark black hair brushing on her shoulders as her head bobbed in time with her cursing.
As she stomped into the cubicle-filled office building, passing co-workers did their best to duck out of her sight, or, at the very least not make eye contact. No one wanted to risk the ire of "Princess Jami" when she was on the warpath.
Dropping her purse off at her desk on without stopping, she threw her shoulder into the door of her boss's office, before striding inside. Throwing her expertly manicured, painted-green-fingernailed hands on her hips, she stared daggers at Mike Cooper as he sat behind his desk and let out a sigh.
"Good morning Ms. Song. I take it something has displeased her majesty this morning?" the middle-aged, bearded, professorial man asked as he looked at the young woman over the top of his glasses frames.
"You're damn right I'm "displeased." You didn't put my video report about the boat-show at the top of the page-feed, OR link my PhoGram site at the top of it!"
"Look, Jami, we're trying to build NowzFeed into a top-tier news and lifestyle update website, and sometimes the social media career of Ms. Jami Song has to take a backseat to other considerations. The boat show was a local event, and if someone wants to track down your "look at me being pretty" pictures on your PhoGram site, they can click the link to your author page."
"You talk like you know the first thing about building a social media presence Mike, but you're living in the past! Hell, my PhoGram account has 3 times the subscribers NowzFeed does! You're not thinking of the synchronicity!"
"I'm not interested in arguing with you about any of this. We don't have the time, and I don't have the inclination!" Mike was starting to get more than a little annoyed. "I have a interview and story lined up that's going to be of national interest. Not only will you get prime placement on our page, it's VERY possible you'll get picked up nationally and internationally by the big sites."
Jami looked at him skeptically. "What's the scoop?"
Mike smiled, knowing he'd baited his hook right. "Are you familiar with any of this Department of Special Welfare stuff that's been going on?" Mike knew full well that despite her being in the news and current events business, Jami was usually behind the curve on these things. She was too focused on herself and her career to keep up with that stuff.
"It's a community service law or something right? They're copying the Japanese or something?"
Mike chuckled. "More or less. The Department is opening one of their new Doll-Mart's in our city. It's due to open it's doors in another month. So far, they, and their Japanese corporate partners have been hush-hush as to how everything is going to work. Only vague press releases and no interviews. WELL, some back-channel communicating has led me to find out that the General Manager of our soon-to-be open Doll-Mart, a Mr. Tanooki, is a fan of yours. He's agreed to an interview, the first one any of these Doll-Mart folks have been willing to grant. Are you up for it?"
She hesitated, but her self-promotional instincts eventually and easily beat-out her anger. "Fine. I'll do it. BUT, I want you're guarantee I'll be at the top of the headline feed for a week, AND, that you'll put my Pho-Gram link right under the title."
Mike shook his head. "Fine-fine. This story's too big to argue about details, and Tanooki only agreed to the interview if you were the reporter. You've got a deal." Mike reached out to shake her hand.
Jami made a point not to reach her own hand out, spinning on her heels and marching out the office door, her nose in the air, a smug grin on her face. "You're welcome."
Jami marched over to her desk, retrieving her big purse. She quickly clicked over to another, smaller cubicle. A bushy-brown haired, bespectacled young man in blue-jeans, sneakers, and a baggy green army surplus jacket snapped too as she approached. "Oh! Hi Jami!" He grimaced, catching himself too late, "I mean, Ms. Song! Sorry!"
"Phil. Get your camera and stuff. I've got an interview at that new Doll-Mart place." She looked down her nose at him, always a little disgusted to see how disheveled and disorganized he and his desk were.
"The new Doll-Mart?!? Really?!?! They haven't been talking to anyone!" he was genuinely impressed.
"They're not talking to just anyone, they're talking to me. Now, let's get going."
Phil scrambled to gather up his bags and equipment. "Sure-sure! Uh, am I driving, or..."
"I am NOT riding in your little piece of crap car, Phil, and you are most definitely not going to track anything in to mine! We drive separately." Jami marched out of the office and into the parking lot, with Phil struggling to carry all of his gear close behind her.
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