I had this awful, unshakeable headache. I'm trying not to get sick because of all the upcoming events, like the Interfaith weekend coming up this Friday. People whom I've met in my travels had expressed an interest in going, plus the Hope Flowers School people from Bethlehem were going to be there, and I had saved an earlier e-mail from them wishing to do a joint project and lo and behold - God makes it so that they show up this weekend.
The billionaire head of this company showed up from the US of A. Everyone gets all tense and crazy. Look I'm not even in the guy's will, so do I "have" to be on my best behavior?? The reception area gets a once over in the days before "His Coming". Carpets are cleaned, light fixtures are cleaned, walls get painted and flowers get planted. I have to straighten out my office, or "he may say something." The board room becomes a sort of Holy of Holies as the meetings commence for an entire week. Yesterday they called me into the Holy of Holies to show them a presentation we were working on. I still had that awful headache between my eyes, which no amount of Ibuprofen took care of. I walked in there, looking fit for the Holy of Holies in a velvet black top and nice dark trousers. But I couldn't hide my dour expression and pasty white complexion, as I was in so much pain. I knew I looked like Linda Blair in the Exorcist as she looked at the priest before she yelled in Satan's raspy voice - "FuckMe!! FuckMe!!!" But there was nothing I could do - when you're summoned, you're summoned.
Mr. Billionaire asked me to type up a sheet he wrote on and I did so - rather speedily as, next to Superman, I am the fastest typist on the planet. As I finished, I heard murmurs from Mr. Billionaire and Mr. Multi-Millionaire sitting directly to my right - "Boy, wish I could type like that." I couldn't believe what I had just heard. They both said it to me. Are these people NUTS??? I would give my Hubby's right testicle to have just 1/10th of their wealth or their business savvy in order to get that wealth myself and they want to TYPE? Maybe I ought to give typing lessons to envious billionaires for 1,000 bucks an hour. Sheesh.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
The Holy of Holies
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2 comments:
So what's your WPM?
(Words Per Minute for you non-typists)
They don't mean that they actually want to type - they mean that they hate the idea that someone (in this case you) can do something that they can't! And the reason why you are not loaded is not because you can't, it's because you are not willing to do what needs to be done to get rich! Who wants to be that obsessive and grasping anyway?!
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