This time, as I waited in the lobby I watched a different secretary. Well, I think she was a secretary. Tall and willowy with enormous breasts and a very low-cut shirt. She was polishing her nails and flipping through a fashion magazine. After about twenty minutes of watching her blonde hair swish over her shoulders and wondering how it could possibly be that bouncy, she sent me a toothy grin and said, “Mathis will see you now.” “Thanks,” I said, wondering whether it was normal etiquette to call your boss by his first name. I walked to Mathis’ door and knocked. Today I was dressed a little more informally in a pair of slacks and a sleeveless, very pale turquoise blouse. It was a little cold in the air-conditioned building, and I shivered slightly as Mathis opened the door of his office, ushering me inside. I looked up at his face, and was surprised to see that his jaw was clenched tight and his fist was still clasped around his cell phone in a vice-like grip. He looked stressed, bordering on angry.
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