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Personal Note:

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Poem

I was trying to look adult but I was running late.
I was not in a business casual outfit or even a business outfit.
My husband had set up this appointment but forgot to tell me.
Be professional, he had cautioned me two seconds ago.
I was not happy because the interviewee was already ringing the doorbell.
The kids were in the basement screaming their heads off.
This was someone who wanted to be his secretary.
Yet I was interviewing her?
What?
I opened the door and led her inside.
She seemed sweet.
During the interview I leaned way back in his chair.
Too far back.
BAM! My feet were in the air.
Yes, of course I had on a dress.
My head was on the ground. 
I crawled around and finished the interview.
Then I hired her.
She typed twelve words a minute on a good day.
I type eighty-eight words a minute on a bad day.
But I never wanted her to tell what happened.
We laughed like loons about it after we got to know each other.
And of course, I continued to do all the typing for she could not.
Bonus, we ended up with a sick cat because her mother said
she could not keep it, and I am allergic to cats.

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