Dad Is My Sugar Daddy

I was a high-risk pregnancy, which might be why I have a hard time picking up on social cues.
Like when I ordered pungent snail noodles to the office for lunch, and my boss, Ava, walked past my desk with a smirk.
Enjoying that, are we?
The next day, I ordered a bowl for her too.
Or when I put in for time off and the HR manager asked me, three times, "Are you sure this is for a concert? Not a family emergency?"
I nodded enthusiastically every single time.
Everyone had written me off as a lost cause, which only made them treat me with a strange kind of protective pity.
It wasn't until the company's funding dried up and the office was shrouded in a fog of despair that things changed.
"I have an idea," I announced.
Everyone laughed.
"Gigi, sweetie," my deskmate said, patting my arm. "Don't make things harder right now."
Why wouldn't they believe me?
I mean, how could someone this clueless be this cheerful if they weren't from a well-off family?
Besides... those fertility treatments don't pay for themselves.
1
After half a year of job hunting with nothing to show for it, I was starting to panic. My family, however, remained annoyingly optimistic.
"Don't worry, honey. You have to believe in yourself," they'd say. "You're not lucky enough to stay unemployed forever."
So, for my next interview, I dove deep into the internet's archives and unearthed a few "killer interview tips."
On the day of the interview, the lobby was packed with at least fifty other candidates, the air thick with the tense, crackling energy of overachievers.
And then there was me, a golden retriever who'd wandered into a wolf den, just looking around with wide-eyed curiosity.
When a broom leaning against the wall clattered to the floor, I saw my chance. I leaped up and set it right.
I spotted a crumpled piece of paper on the office floor and, with a sense of purpose, picked it up and tossed it in the trash.
At the end of the interview, I gave the panel a deep bow and proceeded to walk backward out of the conference room, only turning around when my head connected solidly with the doorframe.
That night, my dad looked at me over his newspaper. "Let me guess, Gigi. You got those tips from some twenty-year-old issue of Reader's Digest?"
He was convinced that my brain, already scrambled by the fertility hormones used to create me, had now been further poisoned by corny self-help articles.
A unique combination of clueless and gullible.
"Who in their right mind," he declared, "would ever hire you?"
Someone did.
When the HR manager called to offer me the job, her voice was laced with pure disbelief.
I found out later what my boss, Ava, had actually said.
"I'm surrounded by sharks, and I'm going crazy. Hire the ditzy one. She can be our mascot. At least then I won't have the lowest IQ in the room anymore."
2
It took less than a week for Ava to start questioning her decision.
I was the kind of person who ate fermented tofu on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and slurped down pungent snail noodles on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
That particular Tuesday, a smell like the city's entire sewer system had exploded permeated the open-plan office.
Ava clicked past on her designer heels, her brow furrowed so deeply you could lose a pen in there.
She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lip twitching in a sarcastic smirk.
"Enjoying that, are we?"
My mouth was too full to reply, so I just gave her a huge thumbs-up while continuing to devour my lunch. This place was the best!
Ava's eye twitched. Without another word, she spun on her heel and stalked away.
Chloe, the woman in the next cubicle, couldn't take it anymore. She rolled her chair over, pushing her glasses up her nose.
"Gigi," she whispered, "call me crazy, but I think she was hinting that you shouldn't eat things with such a potent aroma in the office. It's affecting the, uh, work environment."
I finally tore my gaze from my bowl, my expression one of righteous indignation.
"No way! She's the boss. If she didn't want me to eat it, she'd just say so. Why would she beat around the bush?"
Chloe fell silent. She looked at me the way you'd look at a fluffy kitten right before it's scheduled to be neutered.
To prove my point, the next day at noon, I ordered the exact same snail noodles for Ava, thoughtfully requesting "mild spice."
When the delivery guy hung that fragrant, steaming bowl on her office doorknob, a hush fell over the entire company.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for the explosion.
But it never came.
Ava didn't yell at me, but she didn't thank me either. The day passed in an unnervingly calm silence.
The only difference was that the trash can in her office was overflowing with tissues, and the water cooler level seemed to drop at an alarming rate.
3
Despite my survival, a company-wide consensus was quickly reached: I was an irredeemable idiot.
But I was a cheerful idiot who never got angry and was surprisingly generous.
Sarah, the HR manager, called me in to discuss making my position permanent, gently suggesting I should try to keep a lower profile for a while.
I didn't understand, so I cheerfully handed her my time-off request form to sign.
"Gigi, this reason..." Sarah's eye started to twitch as she read the form. "'To see Taylor Swift's Eras Tour'?"
She looked up, her expression strained. "This is a cover for a 'family emergency,' right? Is someone sick? You? Your parents?"
I was completely baffled.
"Nope! Everyone's great. My dad had three servings of lasagna last night."
Sarah looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. "Fine," she snapped, signing the form with a flourish. "Take the time off. Let's see how you're going to get confirmed after this."
I was confirmed.
When I came back, I brought a small gift for everyone.
But the real kicker was the video I played from my phone.
On the screen, Taylor Swift herself was holding a microphone, smiling into the camera. "I hear Gigi's coworkers have been working really hard," she said. "This one's for you guys. You're doing amazing, sweetie!"
The office erupted.
"OH MY GOD! I've loved her for more than ten years! SHE KNOWS MY NAME EXISTS IN THE UNIVERSE!"
"Holy crap, Gigi! You're the real deal!"
"This is insane! The sweet girl was actually thinking of us!"
And just like that, against all odds, I thrived.
I'd give colleagues rides home in my "grocery-getter," buy hot water bottles for the women on their periods, and even babysit for them when they had to work late.
With all these redeeming qualities, my "stupidity" was rebranded in their eyes as "endearingly earnest."
4
The atmosphere at our company was actually pretty great.
Sure, Ava wore a permanent scowl, called us into her office one by one to tear us to shreds, and sarcastically compared our proposals to garbage and our presentation color schemes to funeral homes.
She was ruthless. She'd even insult herself.
But she was a good person.
She hired women who were planning to have kids, gave generous maternity and nursing leave, and even allowed parents to bring their children to work if they were in a bind.
More than that, at a networking dinner once, a greasy middle-aged client tried to grope Chloe, his hand creeping dangerously close to her thigh.
Ava, who had been pouring wine, saw it happen. Without a second's hesitation, she flung the entire contents of the bottle in his face.
She looked at him, her voice dripping with ice.
"I suggest you keep your hands to yourself. Unlike you, some of us prefer to make our money using our brains."
It was because of moments like that that everyone was fiercely loyal to her.
But that temper of hers had made her a lot of enemies.
Business started to decline, then plummet.
Finally, this month, the reality hit: there wasn't enough money left in the company account to make payroll.
The shadow of bankruptcy loomed over every desk.
The office was a graveyard of long faces and anxious sighs. The air was thick with the stench of impending unemployment.
Even the owner of the snail noodle shop noticed. She texted me:
[Gigi, honey, what's going on? No orders from your office lately. You guys get tired of my food? I just launched a new double-egg, extra-pungent combo! Just say the word, and it's on its way!]
I thought for a moment, then replied: [Send two.]
Half an hour later, I was carrying two bowls of destructively aromatic noodles toward Ava's office when Chloe and Sarah intercepted me.
"Are you insane? You're going to poke the bear right now?"
I shook them off and pushed the door open.
Ava was drowning her sorrows in paperwork.
Her desk was buried under files from potential partners, her hair was a mess from her running her hands through it, and her eyes were webbed with red veins.
She didn't even look up when I came in. Her voice was a low rasp.
"Get out. Unless you want me to scream at you."
I didn't listen.
I opened the bag, pushed the extra-pungent bowl in front of her, and started fanning the fumes in her direction.
Ava finally snapped, looking up to glare at me.
But as the familiar, powerful scent assaulted her nostrils, her throat bobbed.
Slowly, her gaze drifted from the list of partners to the bowl of crimson-slicked noodles.
And my gaze drifted from the noodles to that list of partners.
My eyes scanned the names and suddenly lit up.
I recognized one!
Hey, I know that guy!
I pointed at the list, my voice bursting with excitement. "Ava, I have an idea!"
Ava, her mouth now full of noodles, rolled her eyes.
"What kind of idea could you possibly have?" she mumbled. "Bore them to death with your cluelessness?
"Eat your food and stop messing around. This isn't a joke. Now get out."
She kicked me out.
Standing in the hallway, I felt a little hurt.
Why didn't she believe me?
How could I be this clueless and still live such a sunny, carefree life if I didn't have some connections?
And besides... all that money my mom spent on fertility treatments to have me? That stuff is expensive!
I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.
"Hey, Dad. I'm craving that... what's it called? Oh, right. I want you to meet my boss."
On the other end, my dad's voice was cheerful.
"Anything for my little princess. As long as you don't quit and come home to take over the family business, you can have whatever you want."
Shortly after that call, Ava announced that there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.
5
The next evening, the dinner meeting was set at the most exclusive VIP lounge in the city.
Ava brought me and Chloe, the three of us walking in like soldiers heading into battle.
When she saw the middle-aged man sitting alone in the private room, her hand trembled slightly.
He was a legendary tycoon in our industry, notoriously reclusive and difficult to work with.
But all I saw was a man in a polo shirt with a slight paunch, smiling warmly at me. My dad.
From the moment I walked in, my dad's attention was solely on me.
He looked at me with an expression of pure fatherly affection before turning to Ava.
"So, you must be the boss of... Gigi, was it? I hear she's quite the character."
Ava quickly jumped in. "Yes, Mr. Reed. Gigi is the heart of our company. Her technical skills are still developing, but she's incredibly sincere."
Throughout the meal, trying to be proactive, I kept pouring my dad wine.
"Mr. Reed, you have to try this fish! It's exceptionally fresh!"
I stood up and spun the lazy Susan, aiming the fish head directly at him.
"Mr. Reed, this is a fantastic vintage. You should have some more!"
I stood up again, grabbing the decanter and filling his glass to the brim, nearly overflowing.
My dad's eye twitched as he looked at the glass, but under my fierce glare, he downed it in one gulp.
"Mr. Reed, you have the face of a very kind man. I'm sure you'd be willing to support a small, ambitious company like ours, right?"
My dad's face was flushed from all the wine, but he was beaming. This was the first time his daughter had ever waited on him so attentively.
Usually, he was the one peeling shrimp for me.
Just as I leaned in to whisper in his ear and tell him to sign the contract already, my dad couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Excuse me," he mumbled, clutching his stomach. "I need to use the restroom."
He scurried out of the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Ava's face transformed.
It was a mask of cold fury.
She whipped her head around to face me, her voice like shards of ice. "Gigi Reed!"
I jumped. "Yeah?"
Ava took a deep breath, pointing a shaking finger toward the door. "What was that? Leaning in close, forcing wine on him, whispering in his ear? Did you think I was blind?"
I was completely lost. "I was just building rapport..."
"Building rapport?" Ava let out a bitter, humorless laugh, but her eyes were turning red. "Let me tell you something. Even if this company goes bankrupt tomorrow, even if I have to spend the rest of my life delivering food to pay off my debts, I will never, ever need you to sell yourself to some old man!"
She grabbed her purse and my wrist in one swift motion, pulling me toward the door with surprising strength.
"Industry leader? What a disgusting pig! He's old enough to be her father, and he's trying to get his hands on my employee."
"Let's go! This investment isn't worth it! Disgusting!"
I stumbled after her, catching a glimpse of her backstraight and proud, but trembling ever so slightly. A wave of warmth washed over me.
Wow. My boss is terrifying, but she's also kind of a badass.
But... my dad was still in the bathroom. This misunderstanding felt... significant.

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