Watch Out Boss!

Ouch! You douche! Respectfully, I’m your Secretary.

You recipe for delight! The office arm candy, I’m not meant to be.

Boss! I heard you the other day as you spoke to your friend, without betraying dismay.

Alas! You confessed! I ‘suck’ each morning walking to your chamber carrying the mail tray.

You office wolf, your hushed tones spilled zest.

The ‘luscious girls on payroll’ don’t give your heart enough rest.

So boss, does it give you a sense of entitlement? To make an old secretary like me an object of constant embarrassment!

You go onto say- ‘A stinking shoe-rack would be better than my butt crack.’

I do your data-base, late evenings I number crunch at the spread sheets.

I handle your social media, not to forget those on target missile tweets.

I pitch in brilliant ideas worthy of being featured in Harward Business Review Case Studies.

Yet, all I get from you are a buffet of face palm moments and a ‘burning as hot needle’ tongue showering critique.

Feel like replacing me with a sex bomb secretary,

in closer proximity to your ‘skin and meat’ territory!

But you ‘ain’t’ a silver fox yourself gentleman.

With your corseted shape-wear and girdle you’re no better than a slowly whirring, broken ceiling fan.

Look at your beer belly like a jar full of life expired jelly.

‘Good Morning Boss! What do you want me to do?’

Standing by the paper shredder, you look constipated, go visit the loo.

You hand me a stack of papers, grimly you say,

‘With ‘Cherrytree’ Furniture Company you’ve had a harrowing day.’

You paid $100000 and the company, now bankrupt, embezzled you.

Furniture’s not been delivered and your wife would have ‘them’ sued.

You tell me to help you with the machine.

Commanding me to plug in, press the power button, I wonder what’s so special about this job so routine.

In go the crisp sheets, I remove the paper clips.

The shredder blades hungrily devour them like a crocodile’s open lips.

You’ve not paid with a credit card, so the charges you can’t dispute.

You want a ‘PHOTOCOPY’ of the only set of papers given by ‘scamsters,’

your proof against loot.

OH MY GOD! The bundled up sheet was ‘furniture receipts,’

You never told me you wanted a photocopy of Cherrytree’s ‘buy and sell’ deed.

What’s happened to your common sense, O God?! You’ve sold it off for five pence.

You don’t know the difference between a photo copy machine and a paper shredder!!!

Your face is turning by the minute, redder and redder.

All you needed you fool, was a photo copy.

Too late to ‘un-slot’ the paper, the machine has chewed it up like delicious toffee.

Only copy of your document, now in the waste paper bin!

It’s like gifting to your enemy, the box containing your favourite tiffin.

Ha! Hire an Attorney in a local court,

Reverse your damages with ‘Cherrytree,’ he’ll charge $500 per day, for his reports.