It all has to do with perspective. It’s like where are you coming from as you look out of your eyes and observe the world? Or, whatever senses you have to interpret the stuff that happens around you. It’s the history that you have. It’s what you ate for dinner last night. It’s your health. It’s how mean you are (I’m the mean secretary these days). For instance, take mean. I’m not really mean. I’m actually mad. But, for some reason I can’t seem to give myself permission to get mad. So, I get mean. It’s what I did as a child. Be nice. You’re the oldest, so you can take care of and set an example for the others. Ahem. Now, I’m mean.
What this involves, though, as an adult just starting my 50’s as a secretary is letting the phone ring longer than it needs to sometimes in my office. Not often, but just every once in awhile when it just gets to be overwhelming. I could quit and find another job, but that's too much trouble. I figure that particular move will happen in its own time anyway. It’s my tiny revolution. Hey, I could be in the powder room. Then, who would answer the ding donged phone? I also amuse myself with psychic observations during the course of my workday as a mean secretary. He’s got piles. That’s why he’s acting like such a shit.Right.
The problem with being a mean secretary, though, is there aren’t any real clear demarcations between 4:30 pm and 5:00 pm when I get home. It is evident when the phone rings at home. I don’t answer it. We’ve got this great phone in the back that has this little LCD window on it that lets me know who is calling. Most of the time I can tell when it’s somebody I want to talk to. Most of the time I don’t answer it. But, as time has gone by I find myself more often than not just not answering the phone. We turned the ringer off on the phone in the front, so if the television is on nobody can really hear the phone when it rings in the back of the house.
Something else I’ve been doing is telling telemarketers if they can’t say my name right I don’t want to talk to them and then hanging up. It’s not so big a problem as it used to be before we got on the Do Not Call List. But, I still get that little thrill as I hang up on somebody. I can’t do that at work. At least, not often. But, I take full advantage of the fact that I’m queen in my castle and what I say goes…mostly. An exception is DeeDude when he has possession of the remote control for the TV.