Snow White & Her Four Dwarves

Once upon a time in a land far, far away lived a princess with skin as white as snow and hair as black as ebony. Her name was Snow White.

Unlike her contemporary in the west, no unseemly deaths occurred in her family to warrant the unwelcome arrival of a thoroughly contemptible stepmother so our fortunate Snow White remained cherished, coddled and cosseted by her overindulgent parents. From cradle to college, nary a harsh word was used on her - please, may I and thanks was all she heard - and she remained charmingly oblivious to the wild, wicked world around her.

Till the day her doting parents gave her a gentle yet irresistible push out into the world to search for her destiny. Without a magical map to guide her on her way, Snow found herself meandering into the depths of the dark forest right into the path of four grumpy old dwarves, none of whom were terribly impressed with her beauty, wealth or charm. Rather than offer her help as most of the docile forest creatures have done, the cantankerous four refused to even listen to her gentle pleas, preferring to delve into the inscrutable mysteries of the internet instead.

Damn, those dwarves play rough!

Which is how I found her abandoned and alone, weeping her poor little heart out on a fallen log at the edge of the gloomy forest. Even a passing robin hoping to cheer her with a happy tune failed in his attempts. No prince am I yet I couldn't turn my back on such a gentle soul.

Snow : Huntsman are you? Or a prince here to save me?
Paul : A gay prince perhaps. 
Snow : A happy prince?
Paul : You really have been stuck up in a tower for a long time, haven't you? So what brings you down here? 
Snow : The dwarves yonder who are working for me. I've bargained, begged and beseeched many a time - yet the dwarves four refuse to aid me. 
Paul : Heigh-Ho indeed. Have you tried other means of soliciting their help?
Snow : Offering them sweets and sugarplums doesn't seem to persuade them. They don't even want to dig in the mines! One even threw a shovel at me when I told them to whistle while they work!
Paul : Are you not in charge of these craven dwarves? Wasn't there a notice placed up on the town square informing everyone of your ascendancy?
Snow : Yes, I am supposed to manage these dwarves.
Paul : And yet you sit here whining, weeping and wailing as these laggards ignore your express commands? 
Snow : But how do I -
Paul : With a bloody whip. 
Snow : But I can't -
Paul : Speak softly but carry a big stick. Sounds like that's the only language they speak. 
Snow : But I am trying to be nice. 
Paul : They are not your friends. They are your subordinates. So don't phrase your needs as a sweet request, it's a bloody command. I'm not asking, I'm telling. 

Honestly I might talk real sweet but if my subordinates spoke to me in such a manner, I would have had their bleeding heart served for lunch.

Unfortunately life isn't a fairytale. Being the pampered princess is easy enough, being the draconian ruler takes a bit of work. Whistling a happy tune might get the merry birds a-dancing but a smile and a song isn't going to get the procrastinating servants a-cleaning.

Over here of course we know Snow as Pretty Panacea who is having difficulties adjusting to her new role in a managerial position. Turns out her lackeys aren't all that pleased to be told what to do.