Shiv Roy’s Tips for How To #GirlBoss Your Way Through Losing Control of the Family Company

What an outstanding group of Greg’s future ex girlfriends we have here! Hi, Shiv Roy. You’ve probably heard of me. I worked on the Gill Eavis campaign? Former president of Waystar Royco? Went viral for writing a scathing corporate memo that revealed my brother’s long-standing drug addiction? Excellent.

 

Now that we’re all on the same page, listen – I get it. Losing control sucks. It’s not like I’ve been dying to get kicked out of my own company. But whatever, it happens. Uh, so these are my tips for how to power suit, #girlboss, or whatever the fuck your way out of losing your rightful claim to power.

 

“It’s not me, it’s you”: Redirect Everyone’s Attention To Focus Elsewhere

You want to put out the fire before the trees catch fire and the fucking house burns to the ground. They can’t attack you if they’re not thinking about you, so divert attention elsewhere by any means necessary. One time, I tried to weaponize somebody else’s sexual harassment claim in an attempt to stage a corporate takeover. Well, I guess she hadn’t technically filed a complaint, but she was thinking about it, and I encouraged her to move forward – you know, women supporting other women and all that female empowerment bullshit. Anyway, it didn’t work, she never filed the claim and I never got to stage the corporate takeover that we so desperately needed, but it did buy me time by shifting the focus onto my dick-obsessed, oedipal, creep of a brother.

 

Utilize Your Connections

Unsure of what’s coming next? Time to whip out that little black book (not that one, you perv). Call everyone with a pulse to leverage your options. What’s Gill Eavis up to? How about Nan Pierce? Or even Nate? Don’t look at me like that, you greedy bitches. I’m just keeping my options open. Don’t forget that you know people, real people, who can hook you up. If you don’t have the sort of connections I do, I don’t know, try blackmail.

 

Dress For Success

I don’t talk about this a lot, but I spend like, tens of thousands on my outfits every year. They don’t just hand out silk and satin for free at the church bake sale – these blouses are made by tiny little hands in some fuck all country where that shit is legal. And don’t repeat outfits, either. Wear your sweat-shop-designer dress one time and then give it to your assistant or whatever. Anyway, my point is, invest in yourself. Power suits, turtlenecks, pencil skirts, you know…clothes that say “don’t fuck with me.”

 

Ask The Right Questions And Get Everything In Writing

Those motherfuckers will try their best, but they can’t cut you out if you keep talking. Never let a meeting end until you’ve got what you’ve been promised in writing. Use buzz-phrases like “corporate restructuring”, “portfolio management”, “pending board approval”, whatever you have to say to prevent the sun from crashing into the Earth like Frank’s performance at the shareholder meeting. Speaking of contracts, I strongly urge all of you heiresses to read over your inheritance terms. If you find any ink stain that leaves you even the tiniest bit unsure, lawyer-up.

 

Don’t Trust Anybody

When shit’s falling apart, don’t trust anybody. Don’t trust your friends, don’t trust your mother, don’t trust your husband. If you’re going to trust anyone, only trust me when I say not to trust anyone.

 

Lean on Family

I mean literally lean, for support, on your brother’s head. He’s sitting on the ground, amidst a nervous breakdown, but like, yeah, you get it. Support. Family. All of that.

 

Just Keep It Together

Finding out you’re losing control of your family’s company, a company you were twice promised, is bullshit. And to learn this at your mom’s short-notice wedding to her gold-digging beau, yeah, not ideal. But it’s important to keep your shit together – you can lose control of the family company, but not your emotions. Sometimes, your husband is going to rip the carpet out from under you and then use it to mop up your blood before wrapping himself inside that same carpet and snuggling your sticky little corpse. Shit happens. But what do you do when he asks if you’re okay? You say: “Yeah.”

 

Now go forth and don’t forget: GGG. Girlboss, Gatekeep, Gaslight. That’s a saying or something, right?