In Touch with my Inner Celebrity From Hell

Maybe Shirley MacLain would say that in my past life I must have been some diva who snapped at her/his dresser once too often and became reincarnated as an administrative assistant.

I was the diva of administrative assistants-- capricious, proud, tempermental, too dependent on rave reviews, ashamed of my flops, but occasionally brilliant and doggedly devoted to my public, even when I wanted nothing more than to be alone.
I'd bark, "Where the hell is the caterer?" and "Who do I have to screw to get a decent stapler?" And throwing would be too good for the Malaise era phones I've had to work with. Sometimes all I could do was breakdown and sob "What more do they want from me?"

Yet, it was a decent life. It wasn't about the perks, like taking home tea bags left over from catered meetings. It was about the love, waves and waves of it coming over my desk.

I'm glad to be moving on. But I have to say it weren't all in vain for nothin'.