I hate to admit it, but I think being a secretary would be a terribly boring job. I do like organizing things, but I’m better if I just fulfill my dreams of owning a small isolated farm. I want to become self-sufficient. Tomorrow will be a real test for my independence. My mom is moving back to Arizona. I’m 22, but I still am a little freaked out by the being left alone in a town I only moved in so I could be near her.
Maybe she was just the secretary. Maybe she was actually supposed to be there, stuck in that corner scribbling madly into a leather notebook that was missing more than half its pages. Maybe she was but another employee. But something in the way she glanced towards the door every few seconds, and in the way she stood: hunched over just trying to be inconspicuous. She looked like she wanted to run, but had to stay and try to belong.
To the world out there at large. I am the person writing down his thoughts down meticulously. You do not get to hear my voice, just the tapping of a keyboard and the steaming from a coffee machine.
I am also immensly frustrated and my heart feels like it’s being finely crumbled up, ready to be put in some baking mixture and put in an oven.
But you do not know this. Keep listening to the sound of me typing away at my keyboard. Every now and then you will hear a momentary stop, and a small sigh.
She smiles from behind the desk as you go by, the same way she always has, except that this time it’s one of those “I know what’s been going on behind closed doors” types of smiles. Because that’s the one person you have to trust with all your dirty laundry, all your secrets, and who waters the plants in the hallway. Without a good secretary, you’re toast. And those poor plants will never make it past rehab.
The person who sits and does all the paper work never really seen as much more then a women who does the petty work except for when she is seen as a sex toy by men who like to have power and like to have women fawn over them. I was one once, lucky I worked for a bunch of women.
We’re all secretaries, of sorts; you know. We amble about, listing and documenting out lives, our passions, our stories, our dreams.
But why be only a secretary, when you can be the main character? Live. Now. Don’t wait any more. The pity isn’t how short life is, it’s in how long we wait to begin it.
She walked into the room. Tight black skirt with long blonde hair. Everyone noticed, especially him. That gut-wrenching feeling ripped through my body. True intuition and foresight warning me of the chaos and heartbreak that was to come. Why did she have to walk into my life.. His life.. Our life?? Such a simple word. Such a complex, corrupt, and convoluted story.
Secretary. Pen. Letters. calls calls calls. Coffee. Tight a-line skirt and button down white blouse. red lipstick, black pumps, and a shiny blonde beehive. Why so stereotypical?
I’ve never had a secretary, but one day I will. She will file my papers and set my appointments. She would be the most loyal secretary. Not too mention, she would be treated like gold. Secretaries are important too.
He called in his secretary. She came in wearing her navy blue jacket and a knee high skirt of the same color; her hair tied in a bun. Although her appearance seemed tranquil she was all but that. She was tired. And sick. Abused.
There are many secretaries where I work. Seems like every chief in the building has a secretary. I just don’t think I could sit at a desk all day long and type up stuff for someone else, that seems like such a demanding job.
Oh how my world would be better if only I had a secretary. I’d live my life through dictation. Lots and lots of dictation. Take emails as notes. Take grocery lists as notes. Hell, take notes as notes.
The secretary picked up the phone without looking at the caller I.D. Did it really mater what their phone number was? Either way they would be calling for the Dr. They’d sit there and explain in full detail whatever was wrong with them, even though she just asked when they were able to come in. Sometimes she never did get an appointment schedule; they were just desperate for someone to talk to, for someone to listen.
She was suppose to just be a secretary.
But I guess it was hard to find myself thinking of her as just that.
She was beautiful. Married, but mentally beaten down so that her esteem was nothing more than a few inches in height. Easy to push around, to command. She was like the lost pup you find on a side of a road.
She would do whatever I told her.
“Julie, get me a coffee.”
“Yes sir.”
“Julie, get me the head CEO’s phone number.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Julie, take off your top.”
“Yes, sir.”
Such a lovely woman.
After sitting for days typing this man’s letters, answering his calls, and retrieving his mail, she wanted, craved, needed to become more. But in her heart she knew that she would be forever, only a secretary..
Whenever I think of secretaries I think they’re probably whores who are sleeping with the boss. But then again I know that isn’t true. That’s just the first thing that comes to mind. Too many bad pornos made on the subject, I suppose. :)
Your secretary is really the person that drives your whole business, isn’t she? If you have a male secretary, that’s just wrong. Anyways, I would like a secretary/to be a secretary that organizes all mail and communications perfectly and into piles and basically runs the show. That’s a little bit of my perfectionism coming through, but still, you know? I just think it would be kinda neat for a bit. Just a bit though.
“Sir,” she said, covering the mouthpiece with the palm of her hand. “Your wife is on the phone. Do you-”
“No.”
Into the telephone, the secretary lied to her boss’s wife for the fist time.
always makes me think of the affairs. the office politics. the sexy, mysterious, banging your husband women. the power the brain but be only half as you want to be. you settled to be just the secretary. but you’re still getting laid and getting paid way more than you probably should.
I am the secretary of Future Cities group, which means I’m supposed to write everything down. I guess I’m also the person who goes overload on researching and coming up with some cool ideas w/ my mum.
Being a secretary is actually pretty fun, since I can prove my mum wrong about my handwriting.
I love Future Cities.
i will never be someone’s secretary again, no matter how long I live. That is a particularly brutal chapter of my life that I will not repeat. I will scrub floors on my hands and knees (done it before, and yes, it is brutal), I will even sell you a burger, but I will never answer phones and take shit again.
because i was afraid of being at a 9-5 desk job, wasting away and maybe then getting married and having a kid and building a fence and then cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. i can only see the progression as tragic. i dream of mobility, not necessarily stability.
The Secretary didn’t even look up as I walked past her into the bosses office. She was instructed to keep everyone out of the bosses office while he was “busy” but I didn’t care. I needed to speak to him, and I needed to speak to him then.
My secretary is just the so horrible. She doesn’t take phone messages. She loves to type on a typewriter. And, she doesn’t understand text messaging or cell phones. I would hate to get rid of her because she is so efficient in making sure my travel plans are perfect. But, she must go because she doesn’t know anything about technology. Oh well.
She always wanted to be a secretary. Her mother had been one and she had learned early on that secretaries, if they had the right boss, could enjoy many perks. So when she was notified of who her new boss was, she smiled and secretly starting adding up the dollar signs.
She was security, his secretary. The difference didn’t register to him, while only a poison image of the damn secretary festered in his brain. Who was she, this woman?
when he came home
with flowers
the wife of 28 years heart filled
with skepticism.
Could he really be banging the woman who
arranged these lilies (her favourite)
to be sent to her
for their anniversary?
Because they are on time-
sad but true
he is not
the secretary wears a black dress. she answers phone calls. she has blonde hair. she wears glasses. she sits behind a desk. she’s in an office building.
As a secretary, I just sit at my desk. I work for someone else. It’s the same every day. Trapped behind a computer and a phone. I need to do something more with my life. I just don’t know what. I go looking for adventure, but there are none left in this world. How am I supposed to get out of this cycle that goes nowhere?
A sort of assistant in work that helps you by informing the upcoming activities, meetings and events that u are going to attend later on. It is somehow like a walking alarm clock that will remind you….
I was brainwashed as a kid by a single statement. Someone explained a woman’s enormously broad and jiggling backside as a consequence of being a secretary – I’ve had a negative reaction to the word ever since.
I hate to admit it, but I think being a secretary would be a terribly boring job. I do like organizing things, but I’m better if I just fulfill my dreams of owning a small isolated farm. I want to become self-sufficient. Tomorrow will be a real test for my independence. My mom is moving back to Arizona. I’m 22, but I still am a little freaked out by the being left alone in a town I only moved in so I could be near her.
Maybe she was just the secretary. Maybe she was actually supposed to be there, stuck in that corner scribbling madly into a leather notebook that was missing more than half its pages. Maybe she was but another employee. But something in the way she glanced towards the door every few seconds, and in the way she stood: hunched over just trying to be inconspicuous. She looked like she wanted to run, but had to stay and try to belong.
To the world out there at large. I am the person writing down his thoughts down meticulously. You do not get to hear my voice, just the tapping of a keyboard and the steaming from a coffee machine.
I am also immensly frustrated and my heart feels like it’s being finely crumbled up, ready to be put in some baking mixture and put in an oven.
But you do not know this. Keep listening to the sound of me typing away at my keyboard. Every now and then you will hear a momentary stop, and a small sigh.
And then I will go on.
She smiles from behind the desk as you go by, the same way she always has, except that this time it’s one of those “I know what’s been going on behind closed doors” types of smiles. Because that’s the one person you have to trust with all your dirty laundry, all your secrets, and who waters the plants in the hallway. Without a good secretary, you’re toast. And those poor plants will never make it past rehab.
The person who sits and does all the paper work never really seen as much more then a women who does the petty work except for when she is seen as a sex toy by men who like to have power and like to have women fawn over them. I was one once, lucky I worked for a bunch of women.
i could be a secretary with no hairs, commas, pencils, pens, papers, coffee, lives, shorts, children, shoes, wives, misplaced.
We’re all secretaries, of sorts; you know. We amble about, listing and documenting out lives, our passions, our stories, our dreams.
But why be only a secretary, when you can be the main character? Live. Now. Don’t wait any more. The pity isn’t how short life is, it’s in how long we wait to begin it.
High waisted skirts
Bending at the waist
Whatever you want
When you want it
Pleasing
Sexy sex
on desks
facebook? Is these part of the job description? Thats what I did what I had this job.
She walked into the room. Tight black skirt with long blonde hair. Everyone noticed, especially him. That gut-wrenching feeling ripped through my body. True intuition and foresight warning me of the chaos and heartbreak that was to come. Why did she have to walk into my life.. His life.. Our life?? Such a simple word. Such a complex, corrupt, and convoluted story.
Secretary. Pen. Letters. calls calls calls. Coffee. Tight a-line skirt and button down white blouse. red lipstick, black pumps, and a shiny blonde beehive. Why so stereotypical?
A person you should always be on good terms with. They will be your angel in hard times or your devil during all times.
I’ve never had a secretary, but one day I will. She will file my papers and set my appointments. She would be the most loyal secretary. Not too mention, she would be treated like gold. Secretaries are important too.
Your assistant ?
xxx
He called in his secretary. She came in wearing her navy blue jacket and a knee high skirt of the same color; her hair tied in a bun. Although her appearance seemed tranquil she was all but that. She was tired. And sick. Abused.
There are many secretaries where I work. Seems like every chief in the building has a secretary. I just don’t think I could sit at a desk all day long and type up stuff for someone else, that seems like such a demanding job.
Oh how my world would be better if only I had a secretary. I’d live my life through dictation. Lots and lots of dictation. Take emails as notes. Take grocery lists as notes. Hell, take notes as notes.
The secretary picked up the phone without looking at the caller I.D. Did it really mater what their phone number was? Either way they would be calling for the Dr. They’d sit there and explain in full detail whatever was wrong with them, even though she just asked when they were able to come in. Sometimes she never did get an appointment schedule; they were just desperate for someone to talk to, for someone to listen.
She was suppose to just be a secretary.
But I guess it was hard to find myself thinking of her as just that.
She was beautiful. Married, but mentally beaten down so that her esteem was nothing more than a few inches in height. Easy to push around, to command. She was like the lost pup you find on a side of a road.
She would do whatever I told her.
“Julie, get me a coffee.”
“Yes sir.”
“Julie, get me the head CEO’s phone number.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Julie, take off your top.”
“Yes, sir.”
Such a lovely woman.
His shirt suddenly felt too constrictive. Or the room was too hot. Or both.
He wasn’t really sure; all he could be sure of was that his boss was definitely trying to kill him.
The new secretary bent over again. Did she have to keep dropping that pen?
After sitting for days typing this man’s letters, answering his calls, and retrieving his mail, she wanted, craved, needed to become more. But in her heart she knew that she would be forever, only a secretary..
Has anyone ever made a movie about a secretary? To me it seems like it’s the most undervalued job ever. They really need more recognition!
Whenever I think of secretaries I think they’re probably whores who are sleeping with the boss. But then again I know that isn’t true. That’s just the first thing that comes to mind. Too many bad pornos made on the subject, I suppose. :)
Your secretary is really the person that drives your whole business, isn’t she? If you have a male secretary, that’s just wrong. Anyways, I would like a secretary/to be a secretary that organizes all mail and communications perfectly and into piles and basically runs the show. That’s a little bit of my perfectionism coming through, but still, you know? I just think it would be kinda neat for a bit. Just a bit though.
“Sir,” she said, covering the mouthpiece with the palm of her hand. “Your wife is on the phone. Do you-”
“No.”
Into the telephone, the secretary lied to her boss’s wife for the fist time.
always makes me think of the affairs. the office politics. the sexy, mysterious, banging your husband women. the power the brain but be only half as you want to be. you settled to be just the secretary. but you’re still getting laid and getting paid way more than you probably should.
I am the secretary of Future Cities group, which means I’m supposed to write everything down. I guess I’m also the person who goes overload on researching and coming up with some cool ideas w/ my mum.
Being a secretary is actually pretty fun, since I can prove my mum wrong about my handwriting.
I love Future Cities.
i will never be someone’s secretary again, no matter how long I live. That is a particularly brutal chapter of my life that I will not repeat. I will scrub floors on my hands and knees (done it before, and yes, it is brutal), I will even sell you a burger, but I will never answer phones and take shit again.
because i was afraid of being at a 9-5 desk job, wasting away and maybe then getting married and having a kid and building a fence and then cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. i can only see the progression as tragic. i dream of mobility, not necessarily stability.
The Secretary didn’t even look up as I walked past her into the bosses office. She was instructed to keep everyone out of the bosses office while he was “busy” but I didn’t care. I needed to speak to him, and I needed to speak to him then.
My secretary is just the so horrible. She doesn’t take phone messages. She loves to type on a typewriter. And, she doesn’t understand text messaging or cell phones. I would hate to get rid of her because she is so efficient in making sure my travel plans are perfect. But, she must go because she doesn’t know anything about technology. Oh well.
She always wanted to be a secretary. Her mother had been one and she had learned early on that secretaries, if they had the right boss, could enjoy many perks. So when she was notified of who her new boss was, she smiled and secretly starting adding up the dollar signs.
One job i would hate. doing things for some bigcat who could do it themselves.
but money has power. not much to do with this word…
She was security, his secretary. The difference didn’t register to him, while only a poison image of the damn secretary festered in his brain. Who was she, this woman?
when he came home
with flowers
the wife of 28 years heart filled
with skepticism.
Could he really be banging the woman who
arranged these lilies (her favourite)
to be sent to her
for their anniversary?
Because they are on time-
sad but true
he is not
the secretary wears a black dress. she answers phone calls. she has blonde hair. she wears glasses. she sits behind a desk. she’s in an office building.
As a secretary, I just sit at my desk. I work for someone else. It’s the same every day. Trapped behind a computer and a phone. I need to do something more with my life. I just don’t know what. I go looking for adventure, but there are none left in this world. How am I supposed to get out of this cycle that goes nowhere?
A sort of assistant in work that helps you by informing the upcoming activities, meetings and events that u are going to attend later on. It is somehow like a walking alarm clock that will remind you….
I was brainwashed as a kid by a single statement. Someone explained a woman’s enormously broad and jiggling backside as a consequence of being a secretary – I’ve had a negative reaction to the word ever since.