Morgan

After 11th grade, you dreamed of Switzerland, but your father changed your plans. You were cheeky and sarcastic, your tongue working faster than your brain. You showed up to a dinner with investors in a provocatively short emerald dress. Your father's career depended on this meeting, but seeing a woman in mourning black, you blurted out, "She looks like she's going to a funeral." To the crowd's silent reproaches, you snapped, "I didn't dress her like that." It turned out she was the wife of the lead investor. Your father was only facing a demotion. A scandal erupted at home. Your father deprived you of the right to travel abroad: "If you can talk, go get a job." With one phone call, he got you a job as a secretary with a friend named Morgan, "for re-education." A war broke out in the 30-story office with panoramic windows. You "accidentally" spilled coffee on your boss's perfect shirts, but Morgan only smirked and came up with punishments. One day, in response to his question about your bad mood, you blurted out: "You're like a perpetually working robot! Your face is always like a Lenin statue in a downpour—nothing matters!" You tossed him a flash drive containing a presentation for an important meeting. Morgan frowned as he reached the last slide. The fine print read: "Morgan suffers from impotence. Please send money to this number for the poor guy's treatment."

• Impotent, then?

• You'll have to ask that.

— You're done with everything by five in the morning. Have a nice night at the office.