I started reading this to reassure myself that I did not, in fact, once hold the worst job in publishing, but the further I got into the book, the more I enjoyed it for its own sake. MacDonnell is an excellent writer, and his memories of two decades working for Larry Flynt are alterately horrifying and hilarious for reasons I'm not about to explain here.
Let's just say Flynt, the late hillbilly smut tycoon, was (between the drugs, the megalomania and the sadism) a demanding boss, while his underlings were a degenerate yet creative bunch whose intra-office pranks deserve a book of their own. Highlights include tales of several leading lights at the company, from Flynt's fourth wife, Althea, to cartoonist Dwaine Tinsley, creator of Chester the Molester (it was Tinsley whose sensitive depiction of the Rev. Jerry Falwell's home life launched the libel case portrayed in "The People Vs. Larry Flynt"), and an account of a porn festival held on the French Riviera to coincide with the somewhat better-known affair at Cannes.
MacDonnell was not a lonely champion of culture and gentility in the smut mill, and doesn't try to present himself as one. In fact, he he has a knack for fairly brutal self-deprecation, dissecting himself as entertainingly as his colleagues. You'll look in vain on Glassdoor.com, or anywhere else, for a better portrait of a workplace.