A Secretary Is Not A Toy

She sat, patiently, watching him rehearse the speech. He shuffled his notecards; he sounded out words to find their magic; he shifted his weight, searching in vain for a way to lean against the lectern without looking uncomfortable, a big man trying not to look small.

You’re never ready: eventually you just decide to stop practicing. He came down, he asked, “How was it?”

“Wonderful, sir.” She nodded. “A little long.”

“Long?”

“These chairs are uncomfortable. They’ll already have been sitting for an hour by the time you go up.” She reached into the wicker basket. “Here, have a sandwich.”