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A Butler or a Slave?

Kelly Sanders

Copyright 2012 by Kelly Sanders

 All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.





A Butler or a Slave?

You know how it is; one day you’re working your dream job at an awesome company that treats you like a person, not a machine. You have everything you could ever want, with a healthy salary, a cool apartment and platinum gym membership. Then, in one crushing swoop your company goes into administration and you’re left out on your ear looking for work. Well, maybe someone reading this might know how that feels, and recently I became one of them. So, as a young man in my mid 20s I thought “the world is my oyster” and started to look for a new job. My hopes were dashed considerably when I realised that my field of work had dried up since I was taken on as a post-graduate a few years before. This meant that I would have to slum it in another field in the hope that someday my dream job would surface. I looked through the limited selection of adverts in my local newspaper and online, but my choices were rapidly slimming. Nothing seemed appealing – not because of the job specification, but rather the ridiculously low salaries being offered. I was used to fine dining and expensive cars. I couldn’t just give it all up for a measly pay packet. Then I noticed one advert with a very substantial salary, including healthcare and benefits. The money caught my attention before I even looked at the job title. “BUTLER REQUIRED”, it read, “High-class house requires new butler for ”. Desperate for any kind of work I dialled the provided phone number. A woman answered almost immediately with a stern voice, “Hello, this is the Drayton residence”. “Uh... hi, I’m enquiring about the butler job” I said. “How old?” she asked. “I’m twenty six”, I replied. “Hmm...” she muttered for a moment, “We are looking for someone who is utterly discrete, and who is completely open-minded”. “I am” I said. “Very well then, can you attend an interview tomorrow at 12 noon?” she responded. “Yes, definitely!” I said eagerly, and with that she hung up the phone.

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