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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end, long distance training and Femme Domme phone sex, providing esoteric depravity for the aficionado, specializing in Erotic Fetish, Female Domination, Cock Control, Kinky Taboo and Sensual Debauchery. To make an appointment or speak with Ms. St. Lawrence  ...


Martyr for Phone Sex

Wednesday, August 24th, 2011

Oh the Slings & Arrows …… of a mother effin Bitch Boy.

If you’re the sort who appreciates a bit of alliteration, we could call this particular rant post “The Incredible Case of the Curiously Obtuse Cretin.”  If we’re talking in soundbites, then our title might well be  “When Good Phone Sex Goes Wrong.”  Either way, in the instance of  FemDom Phone Sex, if something goes wrong, the caller is by default fully & inexcusably culpable.  Even though I did know better.

I knew better than he did — I did, I did, I did — that there was absolutely no way in hell a conversation betwixt the two of us could provide the “happy ending” he was seeking — the Utopian Sexual Nirvana he was hunting down like the Holy Grail, The Lost City of Atlantis, the mother-fucking Golden Fleece, Shangri-La, The Arc of the Covenant.   He was Ponce de León, looking for the goddamn Fountain of Youth (who thought, BTW, it would cure his impotence … oh the irony).  Looking for a long, long time … call after call, girl after girl. I know this, because he told me so.  And because I happen to have Super Powers.

I tried to tell him; really, really I did. Because I did know better than he did.  My spank-dar, which is hardly ever wrong, was screeching Danger, Will Robinson, um, I mean Ms. Angela. Danger.  (I said “hardly ever” not “never ever” wrong.  There’s going to be some problems when you buy your parts from a 20th Century Fox back lot fire sale.)

And it is, after all, right there in the sidebar (Quick Start Guidelines) on page 4 of  “The Phone Sex Operator’s Official Handbook” that I am going to write by the end of the year might get around to writing someday: #17. NEVER trust the words of a man with an erect penis in his fist.   His palms are sweaty and he can’t help but be one oily son-of-a-bitch.

Unfortunately, against all my better instincts and despite the creep creep creep of my trusty smarm-o-meter, I swallowed his bullshit, smooth lies and bracing promises, finally agreeing to do a Fantasy Phone Sex call with him.  Of course it didn’t work out and Mr. Smarm has nobody to blame but himself.  I told him the truth and he insisted on telling me different.

So let’s start with the email I received post-call.  In fact, so post-call that it was TWO WEEKS after our Role Play Fantasy via the phone when I finally heard from Mr. Smarm.  Don’t worry; by the end this will all make sense.  Of course, I could be wrong, and I’m sure if you had the chance to ask Mr. Smarm, he’d be the first to tell you so.  But this is MY blog and we’re not asking Mr. Smarm a damn thing.

Mr. Smarm’s email to me:

Hey Angela:

Thought I’d take the time to comment on our last conversation…

Well, I would be lying if I said that I was satisfied. It seemed that I caught you at a bad time and you really weren’t focused on our session. Also, I think that you [were] somewhat intimidated by me, and I really wish that wasn’t the case. I mean, I think that you felt like you had [to] think up something “extravagant” for me, but believe me – you don’t have to.

I wouldn’t mind giving it one more try, but I would like to catch you in a more relaxed/focused mood, so you can do your best work (and I know that you have an excellent imagination).

Mr. Smarm

So I guess the question is …

…  does Mr. Smarm deserve a response?  My usual policy when dealing with numbskulls is very simple:  Don’t.

The thing is that despite the fact that two weeks had passed, despite the abrupt end to the call, despite the absence of a gentlemanly follow up email, I was actually glad to see Mr. Smarm’s (TWO WEEKS LATE) email.  Because even the day of “the call” I’d given him the benefit of the doubt, allowing that there may have some glitch that disconnected us.  After all we’d already talked forty minutes at that point.  I mean, who stays on the phone for that length of time if they aren’t having fun, right?  And the platform I utilize for my calls had been experiencing some recurring issues.  So, yes, I was glad.  Until I opened and read his email, that is.

So …

I was glad, I was sad, and then I was mad.

Conclusion?  No way in hell does this jerk deserve another moment of my once undivided attention and always valuable time.  I adhere to the Fool Me Once, Twice Doctrine.  Logical and less messy.  Therefore, I will not be sending a return email to Mr. Smarm.  Unfortunately for you, I already wrote my response.

I’m sure you won’t mind:

Dear Mr. Smarm:

I was quite delighted today to see your email in my inbox.  That is until I opened and read it.   Of course, when I read your email, I went from pleasure to hurt in a heartbeat.

 Now I am fucking pissed.

Because I poured my heart and soul into that fantasy. Once we were off and running, the world around me dissolved into that office where I — and eventually Jennifer (remember the receptionist?) — accused you, abused you and used you.

And I did one helluva job.

Yes, at first, I was nervous, even a bit reluctant. Because, whenever a phone sex caller starts the conversation with,I’ve experimented with phone sex for years and most girls just can’t get it right” … well, it just doesn’t bode well.

… at your urging, I DID RELAX and took a leap of faith that you were true blue and meant what you said.  Obviously — as we now know two weeks too late later — you aren’t and you didn’t.

Otherwise, you would have taken that leap with me and enjoyed the flight. You would have appreciated the rich details and well-drawn setting into which I grounded the fantasy (the picture window from my office; your desk right outside my door; my pencil skirt, sheer black stockings and garters juxtaposed against barely legal Jennifer’s sundress and wedge heels). You would have been savvy enough to realize that this girl on the other side of the phone was having the time of her life.   That she was firing on all pistons, creating our own special world and having a fucking blast doing it.

And, by the way, you should have answered truthfully when I took those moments during the call to pause and ask if the direction I was taking was doing it for you.  Instead you lied.  And now look where we are.

As for your statement that “I think that you felt like you had to think up something “extravagant” for me …”  Huh?  What? Do you not get what I do? Have you not read my FREE Phone Sex Preview Stories? There’s plenty of samples of my work, so that New Callers know exactly what I’m about.  Unlike you, I don’t pull any punches.

 Have you ever entertained the possibility, Sir Pants-Down-a-Lot, that the problem lies with you and not me?  After all, you’re the one who’s spent a little bit less than a lifetime looking for the perfect Phone Fuck.  It has been said of me, “The way she riffs on matters sexual and otherwise, she is my white Billie Holiday, a 21st century Anais Nin with just a touch of Machiavelli.”  I could quote caller after caller, but you can read all of my Phone Sex Reviews — at your leisure, of course, when you’re taking a break from your great and almighty Phone Sex Fantasy Crusade.

I think you’re confusing “extravagance” with “virtuosity.”

And Haven’t you still been on the prowl, trying out another and another and yet another Phone Sex Girl, still looking for your Phone Sex Fix these past two weeks?   Never mind, don’t answer that.  I already know you were.  I know it for a FACT.  Remember, I have Super Powers.

I dunno, maybe you had a PSO some years ago that rocked your world and the rest of us simply pale in comparison. Maybe we’re all inept and you’re just a customer getting poor service from every single one of us.  It must be a tough to be a Martyr for Phone Sex, traversing the minefield of Broken Wet Dreams.

The bottom line is that I have no desire to ever speak with you again. I gave you everything I had and you trashed it.  The coup de grâce is that you actually have the balls to say that you “wouldn’t mind giving it one more try.”  Are you demented or delusional?   Which is it?

Never mind, because guess what.  I would mind.  I would mind it very much.  I’d rather spend my time with the myriad men who find me creative and perfect just the way I am.


We now return to our regularly scheduled perversion.  If you’ve lost your remote, it might be between the couch cushions or just look right here.

Whew! I don’t know about you guys, but I need a drink of water after all that.  Maybe even a Xanax.

And why is that song banging around in my head?  Oh no I’ve said too much, I haven’t said enough … tra la la.   That’s me in the corner, that’s me in the spotlight.  Losing my religion … tra la la.

Phone Sex Bailout?

Sunday, February 8th, 2009

A Lament For Phone Sex Operators in Tough Economic Times

By Pervert Q. Savant

The evening news
these the past few weeks
has surely brought
more troughs than peaks.
Spending’s down;
unemployment grows.
The country’s fortunes
Have hit new lows
And while Congress
spews purple prose,
There’s no money out there
for poor PSOs!

As I pen these words,
I see much amiss.
Our economy’s entered
a real deep abyss.
“This bailout’s a bust!”
fat Rush Limbaugh crows.
These damned banks won’t even tell us
Where all that money goes!”
The automakers too
Bewail their many woes.
But there’s not a dime out there
for poor PSOs!

“Our debt’s all ballooned!”
the fierce pundits all scream.
“The Chinese’ll own us,
Our lenders just scheme!”
But our great Wall Street moguls
are in soft repose.
They’re sipping champagne,
while their banks just foreclose.
And the worst thing about it
Is that no one really knows
who really got all that money
and then where it all goes.
But one thing’s for certain,
I think everyone knows
there ain’t a bit of it out there
for poor PSOs!

In the overall scheme of things
it just doesn’t seem right
to give out all that money
to millionaires – so uncontrite,
To the financing biggies —
Like poor AIG ,
and similar piggies,
who so soaked you and me.
But that’s the free market
It’s how it all goes
The tycoons get the money
While we get the hose.
And there’s not a dime out there
For poor PSOs.

So lower your rates, daughters!
Advertise to the max!
Give out those free minutes!
In your work be not lax!
For you’re on your own, honey
There’s no help from the Feds,
if you want to get money
for your food or your meds.
‘Cause the U.S. economy’s
in its death throes
And there’s certainly no money
For poor PSOs.


So do Phone Sex Operators need a Phone Sex bailout?  Why not?  If Larry Flynt and the Porn Industry can do it, so can we. 

Thanks you Pervert Savant, for the cutest poem ever!  And readers, while you’re here, learn more about my Savant Collection right here and read Pervert Savant’s ongoing series,  Lingerie on the Razor-Wire by clicking here.

Phone Sex Tips for Men

Thursday, March 6th, 2008

Well, you never know.  It just might help:

  1. Don’t whisper.  We can’t hear you and what kind of conversation is that?
  2. Identify yourself by more than your first name.  There are a lot of Johns and Marks and Toms, and even more than a few Brians and Martins.  (ie. Hi Angela, this is Fred in New York — the guy who has the black nylon fetish and likes cuckold fantasies.)
  3. Rule of Thumb:  You should feel dirty during the call, but if you’re still feeling dirty after the call — well something just isn’t right.
  4. Read up on a girl — check out her blog and/or website.  Know who you’re calling.  We like to know you are calling us purposely and not just randomly. 
  5. Three way calls are usually a waste of your money.  You’re paying double (for the two of us) and it can be confusing and just not erotic at all.  A talented PSO can easily create a second girl (sometimes 4, 5 and even more girls — though the names start criss-crossing after a certain point) which will save wear and tear on your credit card.
  6. Asking for discounted calls is just not cool.  Would you like it if your employer wanted to pay you less for the job you do?
  7. Give us a rough outline of where you want to go.  Keep it short and simple.  Let us fill in the little details that will make your fantasy special and a unique new thing which we created together.
  8. Always be a gentleman.  Say hello.  Exchange some civil chit chat.  That little bit of time getting comfortable will deeply enhance the intimacy you are looking for.
  9. If your PSO is jealous because you call other girls, drop her.  We are your candy shop.  How dare she want you to keep your hands off all the goodies.
  10. Sometimes things just don’t go well.  If you called her because you liked her profile, give her another chance.  It could make all the difference in the world.
  11. Don’t ask to meet her.  Phone Sex is a business arrangement and not a dating service.
  12. There’s nothing wrong with telling your PSO your time frame.  Some guys really only need ten minutes, others will talk for hours.  If we know ahead of time, we can pace the call.
  13. Participation in the actual fantasy is up to you.  Some guys just want to listen.  Others want to take an active role.  Let your PSO know your preference.
  14. If you like to play with toys while on a call, get yourself some headphones.  You’ll be glad you did.
  15. Don’t send pictures of your dick as an introduction.  If you simply must, at least wait until you’ve gotten to know each other a little bit.
  16. FYI:  If you do cocaine (or other uppers) and make calls, you will spend a lot of money.  PSOs love these calls.  You can’t get off, you need to talk, and it’s by the minute.  We make bank and you go broke.
  17. Don’t show your face (on cam or via compromising pictures) to someone you just met on the phone.  Protect yourself and your loved ones.
  18. Don’t make the mistake of comparing your significant other to your PSO.  We get paid to be sexy, to agree with you, to treat you like a king.  Do you think our boyfriends or husbands get this kind of treatment from us?  Nope.
  19. Don’t hang up when you cum without saying goodbye.  It’s tacky.  And the nicer you are to us, the nicer we are to you.
  20. Phone sex is an indulgence, your special treat to yourself.  You deserve it.  But don’t let it become an addiction or substitute for real relationships.  Because then it just isn’t any fun.

Santa With His Pants Down

Thursday, December 6th, 2007

So Santa called me up a few days ago and once we got the kink (his favorites being Reindeer Games, Candy Caning and Santa Sissy Panties) out of the way, I asked him what he’d been up to.  “Ho, Ho, Ho,” he said in that booming jolly voice I know so well.

“Well Angela, I finally took your advice this year, and in between checking the Naughty ‘n Nice list, helping Mrs. Claus with the cookie baking, getting the sleigh ready, re-orienting the reindeer, and keeping up with last-minute additions to Wish Lists, I’ve been sneaking off to my den for a cup of hot chocolate and a little bit of the wanky wanky.  You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“You’re talking about doing the gingerbread jerk, right?”  I was pretty sure this is what he meant, as I’d often counseled him during our weekly calls throughout the year that during the month of December–his “crunch time”–it would serve him well to “relieve himself” as much as possible.  I mean every man–even Jolly Old St. Nick–can benefit from pumping the poinsettia when stress levels are high.

“Well, it’s something like that, only better.”

“Now, Santa,” I countered, “what could be better than making your very own batch of creamy Egg Nog?”

I could hear the soft tapping of his gloved fingers on his desk, as if he was pondering what to say next.  I could feel him weighing his words, so as to not say something that might upset or offend me.  And so I nudged a bit more.

“Now, Santa Baby,” I said in my most seductive voice, “you know you can tell me anything.   Don’t you?”

“Er, um…  Ho..ho..”

“Come on, Santa, you can tell Miss Angela.  Or am I going to have to make you get the fruitcake?”

“Holy Christmas Tree!  Not the fruitcake!  It took three elves to get that out of my bottom last year!  You’re right.  I’ve been making Egg Nog.  And I do mean a lot of Egg Nog.  Last night, I squirted so high that a big glob of it actually hit the Mistletoe the elves had hung the day before and knocked it into the fireplace.  Now let me tell you, that was a hard one to explain to Mrs. Claus.  The thing is, I’ve had some help.”

“What do you mean, you’ve had some help?”

“Well, I’ve been calling other girls.  You haven’t been around much, you know?  And I needed a break.  Everything was piling up. Rudolph’s nose wouldn’t light, Blitzen and Cupid were threatening to strike, we were looking at a shortage of iPhones (and everybody wants one), we ran out of red curling ribbon, the elves misplaced the–”

I couldn’t take it anymore.  I was fuming.  “Okay, you were having problems.  I get that.  But you cheated on me?  You cheated on your favorite phone sex operator?”   I was half-tempted to hang-up on Santa right then and there, but I couldn’t.  I had to know who these girls were.  And so I asked him point blank, “Who were they?  Who were these women who helped you do the Kris Kringle Jingle?”

“Well it all started with Secondhand Rose.  I know she’s a friend of yours and noticed that she is running a Christmas Phone Sex Special.  You know she usually charges 2.19, but for the holidays she’s lowered her rates to $1.59.  Like I said, you weren’t around, so I gave her a try.  And, Angela, she is really good at this.  Really good!  So I’ve called her probably six or seven times now.  Please don’t be mad.  She not only can do what you do, but she is very good at GFE calls, which you refuse to do with me.”

Hearing that, I wasn’t so mad anymore.  Secondhand Rose would treat my Santa Claus very well.  So if he was going to cheat, I was glad he was in her very good hands.  And he was right; he didn’t get any of that cuddly Girl Friend Experience with me.  At least Rose could satisfy that itch for him.  But I wasn’t done.  He said he’d talked to more than one girl.

“Who else.”  I said it more sternly than I meant it, more like an order.  But that was just to get him to spill his bowl-full-of-jelly guts.  And it worked.

“You know for yourself, because we’ve talked about it, that I’ve always wondered what Luscious Lyndee would be like.  She has that cute ass and innocent look.  I think it was the night the elves forgot to put the screws under the legs of the hobby horses.  It was a disaster.  I left them to repair the damage and snuck off to call Lyndee.  Woo Hoo!  You should see what she can do with holly and berries.  And she’s very good at tinsel bondage.”

Obviously, Santa had talked to Lyndee on more that one occasion.  But she’s a buddy, so, again, I wasn’t very upset.  I mean, I’d never thought to tie him up in tinsel.  Gotta give the girl credit for that.

“Anybody else?”

“Angela,” Santa said, “I admit it.  I’ve been a very bad boy.  In fact, my very own name might be on my very own Naughty ‘n Nice list by now.  I’ve talked to quite a few girls.  Why don’t I just tell you a little bit about them?’

“That’s a good idea,” I answered, no longer angry, just curious.  I was actually kinda-sorta glad Santa was finally learning to let down his white hair and have a good time.  He did have the most important and stressful job in the entire universe.  “Go for it.”

“Well, I have been calling Isabel Blyss quite a bit.  She has the sexiest voice.  And she is quite original and very worldly.   She told me I needed to expand my horizons–that being Santa Claus was no excuse for insensitivity to other cultural traditions.  Then she made me put a dreidel (a rather large dreidel, I must say) you-know-where.”

“Then there’s Mistress V.  Now she is hot!  There is something about her that just makes Santa want to drop to his knees and bark like a dog.  And it’s a good thing, too.  Because she made me do that and a whole lot more.  Did you know that there is a certain piece of sleigh tubing that can double as an enema hose?  Mistress V sure does know it.  And she’s threating to have Barney the Elf bugger me the next time I call.  And Barney might be small in stature, but that’s the only thing small about him.  If you get my drift.”

“And I just had to call–”

“Okay, Santa, that’s enough!”

“You’re not mad at me are you?”

Of course I wasn’t angry.  It’s just that I had a feeling his list of PSOs might go on for hours.  So I assured him that I wasn’t mad in the least; and that if I had to pick girls for him to call, these would have been some of my top choices.  Then I teased him, “But I always knew you had good taste, Santa Claus.  After all, you’ve been calling me for the last three years, haven’t you?”

“Ho, ho, ho!  You’re absolutely right, little girl.  So why don’t you sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas while I tell you about all the rest of the girls I’ve been talking with.”

“Not tonight, Santa,” I answered, “I have a headache.  But call me soon, because I really do want to hear all about it.  And I have a new game for us to play.  It’s called the Nutcracker  Sweet.  Okay?”

“Sure thing, my sweet little Sugar Plum.”

“Oh, and listen here, you fat little bastard, you better leave me a five star review.”

The Land of MILF and mOnEy

Monday, November 19th, 2007

Believe it or not, many women aspire to try the Phone Sex thing. I know because I get tons of email asking for guidance, suggestions and/or linkage. It is impossible to answer everybody. I try when I can, but usually I'm just too busy doing way too much to get to them all. So I thought I'd take some time to address some of these issues today.  

PLEASE NOTE:  These are only my opinions, but they are based on my personal experience and ethics. Hopefully my callers, my readers, fellow PSOs and aspiring PSOs will find it at least interesting, perhaps enlightening and maybe even instructive.

Yes, it's easy to get going. Just pop sex jobs or phone sex jobs or phone sex into your search engine and you are on your way. Many phone sex sites have an application page readily handy. I am not going to go through all of the possibilities that are available to the beginner. Doxy, of the Phone Slut Diary, provides excellent information for both callers and providers regarding your choices and what to expect.

Like Doxy, I am an independent, working for myself. This is my business which, unlike Doxy, I operate through the NiteFlirt platform. Yes, my business is very successful and I'm able to support myself quite comfortably. That said, if you are new to the industry, I highly recommend working for a service before making the leap to business owner.

Why? Because good phone sex is about more than moaning and groaning and bragging about how hot you are. If you work for a company–maybe even two or three–before spreading your entrepreneurial wings, you will get the experience you need to create a phone sex business that can stand up to the competition. And believe me, there is a lot of competition.

Plus there are many different types of phone sex. Working for a service, particularly one which takes any request (shemale, MILF, incest, mistress, cross-dressing, submissive, bestiality, hermaphrodite, golden showers, etc.), is the best way to hone your craft. You will get invaluable lessons in human relations and sexuality, and even marketing and customer service. You will also learn what phone sex niche best suits your personality and ability.

And working for a number of services will give you exposure to various business paradigms.  Then when you start shifting from worker bee to queen bee, you will have an very good idea as to how you want to run your business.

In the meantime, while you are in the learning stages and even when you're "in the biz," the internet can be your best friend. The information you can garner is invaluable, bountiful and free. Spend your time wisely by checking out the competition, noting what they charge, what they offer, and what makes them stand out. Research fetish terms and types of kink. Read the plethora of free erotic stories that are available everywhere and anywhere.

And remember that even when you are working for a company, you are still in the driver's seat. It is up to you to provide something of value and build up your own customer base. As I kinda-sorta said earlier, everybody and their mother wants to be a Phone Sex Superstar these days. Which means the caller has innumerable choices. How can you provide an experience which makes him remember you and want to call again?

Personally, I think it's imperative to value and respect the caller and his particular brand of kink. It's all about you and your professional integrity. Never judge a man by his fantasy. While you might not be able to fulfill a certain request due to TOS (terms of service) issues, lack of knowledge, understanding and/or ability, that doesn't mean that the caller is a degenerate.

Even when you are new and just testing the waters (very scary…I still remember every moment of the first call I ever took), your ability to treat the caller like a valued customer will go a long way in making up for lack of experience. It's a very easy concept: treat the caller the way you like to be treated when you are doing business with someone. And quite frankly, if you can't or refuse to do that, he will most likely move on to find someone who can. Repeat business is what will build your client base.

I often get age play or bestiality requests. The TOS under which I operate do not permit this type of call. I don't agree with that policy, but I have to follow it. But I don't automatically assume the caller is a perverted monster. From experience, I know that 99 percent of these guys are harmless and living very normal–and sometimes even stellar–everyday lives. And so I tell them that–with much regret on my part and no disrespect to them–I cannot fulfill their particular request. Most of the time, if you are nice, the caller will be nice.

A while back, a regular caller told me that the reason he kept calling back was that he was tired of rude "FemDoms" who didn't even listen to what he wanted, just going off on their own tangents. Which highlights two things worth mentioning here.

  1. Specializing in FemDom, BDSM or even Erotic Humiliation does not justify a lack of manners on the part of the provider. Rudeness is not domination, it is crudeness. And actually reflects a lack of superiority, sophistication and talent.
  2. Listening well is the ultimate secret weapon if you want to be a successful PSO. There is a Chinese proverb which goes like this: To listen well, is as powerful a means of influence as to talk well, and is as essential to all true conversation. Don't underestimate the importance of listening. Because if you do, there is no possible way to attain success. It's the caller's fantasy, not yours. If you insist on it being about you, you will end up with a phone that never rings.

A topic hotly debated in PSO forums and communities is the matter of pricing. Of course, if you are working for a service, they set the price. The company I got started with charged $75/half hour, with that being the minimum. Our customer base was comprised of smart and successful men. I got spoiled by the best, and now market to attract those callers. I like them a lot. And they seem to like me.

But when I first went out on my own, I couldn't remain competitive in my environment at the price I thought I was worth. I had to work my way up, so to speak. The buyer wants to know you're "worth it." And can you blame him? Before you set your price, it is a good idea to look at other providers offering similar services. And if you have no history of doing business to offer up as proof of your expertise, then set your prices a bit lower than those girls. Give the caller a reason to try out the new girl on the block. As you gain professional recognition and a following, you can then begin to raise your prices.

Lastly, a word about wish lists and tips. While most girls–many of my good friends, in fact–these days have wish lists, I opt not to. Why? Because, quite honestly, I want to be valued and paid well for what I do. In other words, SHOW ME THE MONEY. My job is to get the caller off and do it with (hopefully) a whole bunch of panache. Pay me well for my talent, thank you very much. And I don't want the caller to feel obligated or bamboozled by a not-so-subtle hint to buy me something.

Tips are okay, if they come in on their own. Again, I don't expect tips (AKA tributes), nor do I ask for them. Often guys surprise me, which just tickles me pink. This is all rather new, this "gimme, gimme, gimme" attitude on the part of phone sex providers. Unfortunately, I think many girls get into the industry with no thought about providing a quality and professional service. Instead their focus is how much they can get while basically doing nothing to earn or deserve it. Anyway, it's your call. Just think seriously about the ramifications to you and your business.

So, did you learn something? Or did I piss you off?

With Much Affection, Angela