No, that wouldn't be professional.

You despise being late, but panicking and running through the faire and showing up out breath is just not professional. You are confident that once you explain the situation to your new boss he will understand.

Trying to make the best possible speed you unfortunately get lost several times in the maze of buildings, booths and vendors' tents. Finally arriving over 30 minutes late, you make it to the Westmooring facility; a large expensive framed tent, with two real double doors, air-conditioning and even separate rooms inside.

Entering in you are immediately confronted by your boss, a Damita Emilia Diego, most likely a relative of the owner. Tall, with a pleasant figure, she looks like she is in her mid to late twenties. Wearing dark gray dress pants and a white tank-top half covered by an open designer black leather jacket she is clearly a woman of means and rather beautiful, especially her rich lite creamy chocolate color skin. Her eyes, however, are piercing with displeasure.

After apologizing, you briefly explain the reason for your tardiness.

“You're fired Mr. Danton.” Ms. Diego bluntly states. “Give me your ID card and get out of here.”

“What?” You are genuinely shocked. “Fired?”

“I know it is hard for you coddled American millennials to understand but there is such a thing as competence and pride in your work, let alone consequences for one's actions. Someone who is late for their first day is someone I don't want on my team.” Holding out her hand Diego again demands, “Your card, Mr. Danton.”

Your mind races, you really need this job and the scholarship and connections that go with it, besides the desire to mend your wounded honor. Lying, and especially begging, however, are hardly options.

“So, you need this job, Mr. Danton?” Diego breaks the silence.

“Yes, ma'am.” Knowing BSing this boss would not be the right play, you confess without much thought that: “I'm willing to pay for my mistake.”

“Really?” The dark skinned beauty almost smiles. “We shall see, follow me then.”

Diego takes you into a small private room at the back of the tent and orders you to close the door behind you. In the middle of the well lit room is a wooden chair that has been fastened to the ground and a large container over in the corner. Opening the container Diego takes out a thick rattan cane which has a wrapped leather grip on one end.

“Do you know what this is, Mr. Danton?”

“It looks like a cane, used for judicial punishment in some countries like Singapore ”

“Very good, Mr. Danton.” Diego slaps the end of the medieval looking device against her open palm producing a rather fierce “thwack” sound. “It is used in my home country, too.”

The Caribbean witch looks you square in the eyes. “Six lashes for being late, and another two since this is your first day.”

At first you don't understand but then it hits you, “You have to be fucking kidding?!” You can't believe that she is even suggesting a woman should spank a man. “Are you insane?” You speak from your gut.

“The correct operation of my father's company, Mr. Danton, is no joke, and for that last outburst you will get an additional two strokes.” Diego is deadly serious.

Your boss strikes her palm again, “Choose now, Mr. Danton, either fulfill your promise to 'pay for your mistake' and take a bare ass caning, or turn in your company card like a coward and snivel away.”