I never wanted to be a secretary. Everyone seems to forget about them. They do all the grunt work and get hardly any praise. It seemed like my mother was my father’s secretary, but unpaid of course. Without any recognition. She deserved more from him…and herself.
she’s writes up everything you are too lazy to do yourself. the main bookkeeper of someone’s work. the one that dots the i’s, crosses all the t’s, and makes sure everything running smoothly. without them, many phones would go unanswered and many coffee-runs would be unattended
One file two file three file four.
I’ll shoot someone in the face if i have to file anymore.
I am the base, of your company,
I make it organized with no help, no accompany
She was the one beside me all this time. My secretary, you could call her. She did all the work, she filed the papers, reported all the times for my meetings, she did everything she needed to do, everything that was required of her.
But I knew she was not what she seemed.
She slipped out the door like a shadow, shifting without a single sound. Her eyes darted around for prey that happened to glance, so no one would know her secret. But I knew where she left to go, and I know what she did.
She was the deceiver, who lead stumbling men into her trap like a black widow, stealing their bodies just to bite their heads off.
secretary of the world!! she claims to hold the almighty pen to all things said. all of the beautiful, poetic, heartfelt quotes or sonnets as well as the sinful, crude and malicious. all in pursuit of discovering the meaning of life…
Work all day (and most of the night).
Try to get all of the best contacts, make sure you produce your best.
Get to the office early to work some more, not sleeping til it’s done.
Finally finished, ready to present it to your boss proudly…
Just to hear her say dismissively, “Put it on my desk”
i keep notes on my day
like how the red fox
jumped on my roof
early day
searching for birds
turning to me as i
spoke, his yellow eyes
told me more
than I should every know.
I think sometimes that I hate my job. Nothing stops me from quitting yet I never do. You see, there’s a man here I think I like. I wish he could see me. I wish he knew I existed, but I’m just a secretary to a woman on the second floor that he sometimes says hello to on the elevator. I have maybe twenty seconds to see him before the elevator doors close and I spend the remainder of my day waiting for him to take another ride. Pathetic, really.
I think sometimes that I hate my job. Nothing stops me from quitting yet I never do. There’s a man here I think I like. I wish he could see me. I wish he knew I excited, but I’m just a secretary.
Secretary, she is always there. Except for when I really need her then she just happens to be on leave or out of the office. She is so terribly honest and then she will leave.
Secretary is not politically correct, but I think most people level with that first rather than the other long descriptive terms. Which makes me think – everything politically correct is long and descriptive. But words in themselves are naturally contradictory and misleading so the more words you use to describe something the more ambiguous it could be really. Hm. Secretary.
Der Sekretär ist ein feiner Mann. Wie schön seine weißen Hemden gebügelt sind. Und die Manschetten, wie die glänzen. Ja, da könnte sich jede Frau glücklich schätzen. Aber er bügelt die Hemden allein. Und er poliert seine Manschetten selbst. Und eine Frau kommt ihm nicht ins Haus. Manchmal ist das Leben schon seltsam.
I don’t think anyone in our school has a secretary, as in the person. my dentist has one, she’s SO much nicer than the guy, I’m pretty sure HE has a vendetta against me or something. A few years ago my mom found a secretary at a garage sale, (as in the furniture) and now its in the little room she uses as her office. Its so interesting to look at, the whole thing is woven out of reeds, and you can see everything interconnecting…
This makes me think of all those secretaries that sleep with their boss for who knows what reason in movies, like “Look Who’s Talkin’!” I liked that movie, John Travolta played a good role. Where was I?
I think a secretary would be a useful addition to my life. Someone to take notes and explain to me the important things from meetings that I’ve slept through. That, and I’d love to be able to say, “Take this down…” and then just speak, knowing, my speech will write itself.
In saying that, I would not like to BE a secretary. Just to HAVE a secretary.
A secretary is a woman who pushes paper for somebody with too much to do to be worrying about things being nice and neat. She usually wears glasses is and has at least one particularly attractive trait about her.
is a movie that inspired me to be myself, unique and fearless. It’s a movie I watched in secret though because it is about my secret life. the soundtrack is wonderful, just perfect for the movie.
The secretary of state is hillary clinton. she is a woman. women tend to be secretaries. women carry babies. babies drink milk. i can’t digest milk. the digestive system is one of the many systems in the human body. is there any body out there? there out in the darkness.
I never wanted a secretary. I always liked the mundane chores of office work; filing, typing-up notes and tea-making. I told them so, but they ignored my little pleasures. Barry, make me a tea will you?
She sits, she clacks. Typing away. Clackety clackety clack. Remember that? No, of course you don’t, you weren’t there. I could’ve sworn you were. I think I might be going nuts. Funny, that. Funny how it works. Her fingers move so quickly, faster than mine. Yours, I can say nothing for – you’re a pianist, or something like that. SOMETHING like that. I can’t say I remember. Especially not if you don’t even remember when we met. I’m going slightly.
She sits. She types. Clackety clackety clack, and you wonder how fast those fingers can go. How fast they run. Faster than your legs? Faster than your arms? Probably. Fingers fight. Thumb wars. Regular wars. Remember that? No? Neither do I. You’re crazy. She’s crazy. We’re all crazy. Remember how that worked out? Nope.
The post of secretary was advertised in the news, the other day. I thought of applying for the job, but I was alerted the fact that I was not in procession of the required amount of quantification, necessary to get the job.
Being God’s secretary is a tough job. God is always too busy, so its up to me to listen to the prayers and transfer the, to Him. But the salary is good, basically I worl for nothing but at least my immortal soul is saved.
The man had made love to his secretary for twenty years. His wife turned a blind eye until it came to his funeral. The ‘other woman ‘was banished. She sat at home while the coffin was lowered into the grave. But every Valentine’s day flowers arrived from her lover.
Oh, that secretary. Always typing busily, hiding behind her monitor. Coops herself up in her tiny space, with a ponytail. I wonder why she insists on hiding. What are her secrets? Is she afraid? What is she afraid of? …Why?
the most important person in the office, in the working lives of those around. The one who keeps the ship afloat, keeps the business on track, answers the phone, arranges the dates and the people and the supplies, keeps everyone happy, defends the patch…
Legs, legs, legs. She had miles of them. Her skirts, short enough to keep you interested, yet long enough to cover what was important. She smiled, a secret, seductive smile and you were hers.
Where is your secretary? You really do need a secretary! I do not need to be running around, doing this for you, doing that for you. You need to take charge of your own, take responsibility for your own actions.
D looked at him, dumbfouded for a moment before frowning “I’m not your secretary, I don’t take messages.” Vin laughed his cold sneer striking a chord within the reaper. “Then dont tell her it’ll be a surprise.”
Lost in the maddening crowd; silently, relentlessly, efficiently…bringing order to my everyday chaos. Do you get a smile, a thank you or a well-deserved break? How do you manage the smile all day long.
the secretary entered the office just after noon to pick up the early lunchtime emails and phone calls and to get a quick one from her boss. At one, she dined on sushi to cover up the scent of adultery and shame.
she types as fast and swiftly as she can..
she types
and types
4 walls
and types
phone rings in the background
and types
she knows she doesnt belong here
and types
all she has to do is get up and leave
I never wanted to be a secretary. Everyone seems to forget about them. They do all the grunt work and get hardly any praise. It seemed like my mother was my father’s secretary, but unpaid of course. Without any recognition. She deserved more from him…and herself.
she’s writes up everything you are too lazy to do yourself. the main bookkeeper of someone’s work. the one that dots the i’s, crosses all the t’s, and makes sure everything running smoothly. without them, many phones would go unanswered and many coffee-runs would be unattended
One file two file three file four.
I’ll shoot someone in the face if i have to file anymore.
I am the base, of your company,
I make it organized with no help, no accompany
She was the one beside me all this time. My secretary, you could call her. She did all the work, she filed the papers, reported all the times for my meetings, she did everything she needed to do, everything that was required of her.
But I knew she was not what she seemed.
She slipped out the door like a shadow, shifting without a single sound. Her eyes darted around for prey that happened to glance, so no one would know her secret. But I knew where she left to go, and I know what she did.
She was the deceiver, who lead stumbling men into her trap like a black widow, stealing their bodies just to bite their heads off.
secretary of the world!! she claims to hold the almighty pen to all things said. all of the beautiful, poetic, heartfelt quotes or sonnets as well as the sinful, crude and malicious. all in pursuit of discovering the meaning of life…
Work all day (and most of the night).
Try to get all of the best contacts, make sure you produce your best.
Get to the office early to work some more, not sleeping til it’s done.
Finally finished, ready to present it to your boss proudly…
Just to hear her say dismissively, “Put it on my desk”
i keep notes on my day
like how the red fox
jumped on my roof
early day
searching for birds
turning to me as i
spoke, his yellow eyes
told me more
than I should every know.
I think sometimes that I hate my job. Nothing stops me from quitting yet I never do. You see, there’s a man here I think I like. I wish he could see me. I wish he knew I existed, but I’m just a secretary to a woman on the second floor that he sometimes says hello to on the elevator. I have maybe twenty seconds to see him before the elevator doors close and I spend the remainder of my day waiting for him to take another ride. Pathetic, really.
I think sometimes that I hate my job. Nothing stops me from quitting yet I never do. There’s a man here I think I like. I wish he could see me. I wish he knew I excited, but I’m just a secretary.
secretary is person who work in the office in order to help boss’s plan.
their main working is make a schedule boss and notice it. they need to
Secretary, she is always there. Except for when I really need her then she just happens to be on leave or out of the office. She is so terribly honest and then she will leave.
Secretary is not politically correct, but I think most people level with that first rather than the other long descriptive terms. Which makes me think – everything politically correct is long and descriptive. But words in themselves are naturally contradictory and misleading so the more words you use to describe something the more ambiguous it could be really. Hm. Secretary.
She’s not here. You. Take this down. “No.” Our CEO, Mr. Phelps… “That’s great, I’ll get right on that.”
I’d like to do that. (That’s what he said or what she said?)
Der Sekretär ist ein feiner Mann. Wie schön seine weißen Hemden gebügelt sind. Und die Manschetten, wie die glänzen. Ja, da könnte sich jede Frau glücklich schätzen. Aber er bügelt die Hemden allein. Und er poliert seine Manschetten selbst. Und eine Frau kommt ihm nicht ins Haus. Manchmal ist das Leben schon seltsam.
I don’t think anyone in our school has a secretary, as in the person. my dentist has one, she’s SO much nicer than the guy, I’m pretty sure HE has a vendetta against me or something. A few years ago my mom found a secretary at a garage sale, (as in the furniture) and now its in the little room she uses as her office. Its so interesting to look at, the whole thing is woven out of reeds, and you can see everything interconnecting…
This makes me think of all those secretaries that sleep with their boss for who knows what reason in movies, like “Look Who’s Talkin’!” I liked that movie, John Travolta played a good role. Where was I?
I think a secretary would be a useful addition to my life. Someone to take notes and explain to me the important things from meetings that I’ve slept through. That, and I’d love to be able to say, “Take this down…” and then just speak, knowing, my speech will write itself.
In saying that, I would not like to BE a secretary. Just to HAVE a secretary.
A secretary is a woman who pushes paper for somebody with too much to do to be worrying about things being nice and neat. She usually wears glasses is and has at least one particularly attractive trait about her.
The secretary bird is a beautiful bird
I wonder what it writes
For writing’s done in secretariats
Or they may be the bird’s true home
I’ve long thought a secretary would be my perfect job. 9-5, answer the phone, email, file, go home. How simple?
is a movie that inspired me to be myself, unique and fearless. It’s a movie I watched in secret though because it is about my secret life. the soundtrack is wonderful, just perfect for the movie.
The secretary of state is hillary clinton. she is a woman. women tend to be secretaries. women carry babies. babies drink milk. i can’t digest milk. the digestive system is one of the many systems in the human body. is there any body out there? there out in the darkness.
I never wanted a secretary. I always liked the mundane chores of office work; filing, typing-up notes and tea-making. I told them so, but they ignored my little pleasures. Barry, make me a tea will you?
She sits, she clacks. Typing away. Clackety clackety clack. Remember that? No, of course you don’t, you weren’t there. I could’ve sworn you were. I think I might be going nuts. Funny, that. Funny how it works. Her fingers move so quickly, faster than mine. Yours, I can say nothing for – you’re a pianist, or something like that. SOMETHING like that. I can’t say I remember. Especially not if you don’t even remember when we met. I’m going slightly.
She sits. She types. Clackety clackety clack, and you wonder how fast those fingers can go. How fast they run. Faster than your legs? Faster than your arms? Probably. Fingers fight. Thumb wars. Regular wars. Remember that? No? Neither do I. You’re crazy. She’s crazy. We’re all crazy. Remember how that worked out? Nope.
The post of secretary was advertised in the news, the other day. I thought of applying for the job, but I was alerted the fact that I was not in procession of the required amount of quantification, necessary to get the job.
Being God’s secretary is a tough job. God is always too busy, so its up to me to listen to the prayers and transfer the, to Him. But the salary is good, basically I worl for nothing but at least my immortal soul is saved.
The man had made love to his secretary for twenty years. His wife turned a blind eye until it came to his funeral. The ‘other woman ‘was banished. She sat at home while the coffin was lowered into the grave. But every Valentine’s day flowers arrived from her lover.
Oh, that secretary. Always typing busily, hiding behind her monitor. Coops herself up in her tiny space, with a ponytail. I wonder why she insists on hiding. What are her secrets? Is she afraid? What is she afraid of? …Why?
the most important person in the office, in the working lives of those around. The one who keeps the ship afloat, keeps the business on track, answers the phone, arranges the dates and the people and the supplies, keeps everyone happy, defends the patch…
She was the secretary but he could not approach her. She was important and he was nothing more then trash that littered the streets of the downtown.
He had known her all his life, sense they were children, yet the two had different paths and it had caused the one to drift from the other.
Legs, legs, legs. She had miles of them. Her skirts, short enough to keep you interested, yet long enough to cover what was important. She smiled, a secret, seductive smile and you were hers.
Where is your secretary? You really do need a secretary! I do not need to be running around, doing this for you, doing that for you. You need to take charge of your own, take responsibility for your own actions.
D looked at him, dumbfouded for a moment before frowning “I’m not your secretary, I don’t take messages.” Vin laughed his cold sneer striking a chord within the reaper. “Then dont tell her it’ll be a surprise.”
I watched the movie ‘secretary’ the other day. As i watched Maggie G crawl across the floor and be submissive, i realized hoe naive i really am…
Lost in the maddening crowd; silently, relentlessly, efficiently…bringing order to my everyday chaos. Do you get a smile, a thank you or a well-deserved break? How do you manage the smile all day long.
the secretary entered the office just after noon to pick up the early lunchtime emails and phone calls and to get a quick one from her boss. At one, she dined on sushi to cover up the scent of adultery and shame.
secretary is someone who works for the manager
she types as fast and swiftly as she can..
she types
and types
4 walls
and types
phone rings in the background
and types
she knows she doesnt belong here
and types
all she has to do is get up and leave
but she doesnt
instead, she keeps typing.