Christmas is my favourite holiday. The holidays have a way of helping people relax and no place is better for that than the office Christmas party. Even the foul breath of the photocopier engineer is ignored for the night by the semi-drunk receptionist looking for attention. You get to dance with the boss. Maybe cop a feel if you get lucky and all around you your drunk colleagues release their inhibitions and go wild.

It’s a blackmailers paradise thanks to the share button and social media. Incriminating photos can be up and circulating within seconds. I left my last job in March. Actually my last three jobs had all been left in the first quarter of the year. You’re not very popular when you spend Christmas sober and eagerly taking photos. Snap. I catch my drunk boss exchanging saliva with her even drunker boss. I always go after the bosses, the people with the money, because they have the most to lose and are the most likely to pay to make the problem go away.

I watch the Managing Director carefully as he takes one shot after another. I usually buy the first three or four drinks for them then they are on their way. They never see me coming. Waiting until January 5th  to email them – no  need to spoil their Christmas – I send the first batch of photos. I spend some time using photo editing software on some and faces are moved closer to breasts, hands are made to look like they are in private places that were probably never touched. No one can really remember whether they actually went that far.

The photos are only the beginning. Threats and the bank account details follow a few days later. I managed to get £8,000 from one of my bosses a few years ago. That was the first time. I only sent it all as a joke never expecting him to pay up but when he did I knew I had something.

Year two I sent an email to five bosses asking them for £2,800 each and I sat back, relaxed, and waited for them to pay. They always did. Once paid I’d leave by March and I’d be free to spend the money. It always seemed to last until September when, broke again, I would take on a new job and await Christmas; my favourite holiday.

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