Your Imperial Majesty,
My friends say I am too nice to be an evil overlady, but I aspire to that position. How can I achieve the lofty heights of my ambition, and attract some minions to do my housework, O mighty sage?
Ah, yes, a meaty and ambitious question. And quite flattering, too! We compliment you on your choice of groveling epithets. We do so like minions to acknowledge our superiority.
There are several steps to attaining the heights of evil overladyship. First, you will need a job. (There is no point in having a career, as you will be leaving it eventually to rule the world.) We suggest secretarial work. As a secretary, you will learn the fine arts of politics, materiel management, scheduling, delegation, and making other people look bad. You will also learn metric tons of secrets about people in positions of power, all of which will come in handy. You will come into regular contact with Microsoft products, which will provide you with a long series of lessons in how to take over the world. And most importantly, secretarial work is skilled work which very few people can do well, but which they will hand to any shaved ape with a resume. Based on the misspellings in your original letter, you will make an awful secretary. Therefore, secretarial work will make you sour, cynical, and lazy--all essential features of an Evil Overlady's personality.
Next you will need a consort. One's choice of consort is of supreme importance. Choosing well will make your rise to power a sybaritic delight; choosing poorly will make you yet another bored housewife droning about socks on the floor as you sip your raspberry latte at Starbucks. To choose, first ask yourself, "What do I want from a consort?" Do you want fortune? fidelity? a sense of humor? superpowers? intriguing and manipulatable vices? Be honest with yourself. There is no point in reeling in the ripest and tenderest of broken roues, dripping with old sin and redolent of ancient vice, if you don't have the time to keep him in line. By the same token, there is no point in finding a good, steady earner with a sense of humor and a way with kids if your idea of a pleasant evening involves hot wax and autostigmata.
At this point, a regular advice columnist would tell you to make a searching inventory of yourself, write down everything, ponder at length, drink a latte, and then discuss with your therapist. We are not a regular advice columnist. We do not care what your therapist thinks. We do not actually care what you think, but we must pretend in order to keep you sad weasels coming back; and we are doing an excellent job of it, don't you agree?
Forget the searching inventory. Your consort must be a steady earner, preferably in lower management with the possibility of advancement to middle management; no more than three years younger or eight years older than yourself; childless; and equipped with a car. We suggest a Saturn. Such a consort will have enough money to support you as you begin your rise to power, will not have enough power to hinder you if he should suddenly be seized by moral qualms at the sight of your leather-shod feet trampling the peons of the world, and will have enough time to spend catering to your whims--provided you don't let him take his management position too seriously. He will, alas, be boring. You will have plenty of other minions to entertain you, though, and you can always trade him in once you become the Evil Overlady.
Once you are married, domestic-partnered, or whatever other arrangements your locality has created for the assurance of domestic bliss, have children. Yes, children. Children of your own--don't try to marry a man who already comes complete with children. You require children to do your housework and carry out your bidding, and stepchildren have a nasty tendency to talk back and then tattle on you to their mother. The number of children is critical. A single child will not be enough to do all of the housework, and as you rise to power it will doubtless acquire too much power of your own and attempt to overthrow you. Two children are better, although any decent-sized house will require at least three children to get it really clean. Four is the best number, though. Four is the number at which human groups start to factionalize; and you want your children at one another's throats. The more they quarrel with each other, the less time they will have to plot against you.
Have the children as close together as possible, to best stimulate their competitive urges. See to it that at least two of them are in the same grade at school. (Or even better, homeschool them all.) Require your consort to be the house disciplinarian. Withhold your love until they do something exceptional, and then raise the bar. See to it that they have a regular diet of violent television. (But don't let them see dirty movies.) Uphold traditional sex roles vigorously, because the only creature crueler than a macho adolescent boy is a feminine thirteen-year-old girl. Make it clear that you have their lives already planned out for them, and keep them aware of where they stand on the schedule--post the schedule on the wall in the break room if you must.
To summarize: Become a secretary; marry a boring but solid provider; have four children quickly. This part of your rise to evil overladyship will take you at least ten years, by the end of which your niceness will have been thoroughly scoured away. If, for some reason, you should find yourself mired in the banality of suburbia, one of three things have gone wrong:
- You chose the wrong consort.
- You were meant to be a minion.
- You asked the wrong evil overlady for advice on how to become her competition.