mother theresa in the corner office

i'm having a hard time being
the boss these days, she says
over coffee. i've climbed
the corporate ladder,
i have a fab income,
and now  i've finally
been awarded the corner office,
but people are afraid of me.
i want them to like me, to share
their innermost hopes and desires
before i fire them.
they run the other way when they
see me coming. you sip your coffee
and smile, you nod knowingly.
well, you are kind of tough, you
tell her. i've seen you in traffic
driving, cursing, slamming your
fist onto the dashboard when
there's a jam. but i'm really a
little kitty cat inside, she says,
whispering. she moves a finger
up to her face to wipe a tear away,
but there is nothing. maybe
a speck of ice rolls out, but that's
all. she takes a sip of her coffee
and spits it out. Jesus, she says.
i asked that damn stupid idiot
barista to put an extra shot of
espresso in and to make it a skinny
fat latte. what the hell is wrong
with this country today. i'm
going in there and ...and...
why are you laughing, she says.
i'm doing it, aren't i , she says.
tell me, i'm being hard and unforgiving.
i need to be  more like mother
theresa. i really do. i'm going to have
my assistant, that dumb ass maria,
i'm sorry, i mean my sweet
and efficient assistant, maria,
find me everything she can on
mother theresa and have
it sent to my office. i'm going to
be nice, and worshiped if it
kills me. deep inside, i mean way
way deep inside, i'm really a people
person.  by the way that's a
a very attractive shirt you're
wearing, she says
and smiles brightly. do you like
my man suit. i just bought it.
the shoulders are a little big,
but i'm lifting weights at the gym
now, so i should fill it out
by the end of the summer. did
i tell you about my corner office?