Apr. 24th, 2006

sparkindarkness: (Default)
Ah Mad Secretary, without you I think I would be insane. With you I know I most definitely am. She has an amazing talent for making everyone laugh. This is often a good thing.

When you have to sit through a 30min interview with the object of said laughter, this can be problematic.

Mrs. F is a sweet, dumpy, middle aged lady. She’s about 40 and looks about 60. She always gives you the impression of wearing a blue flowered dress and making pie no matter what she is making or doing. She probably looked like everyone’s favourite grandmother at age 20 and has only grown into the role. At some point in her life, for reasons I am unaware of, she has lost her left eye. For reasons of her own, she prefers to wear a black eye patch. I don’t blame her, I don’t like the idea of contact lenses or anything else going into my eye.

For the sake of my being able to hold an interview with this woman without laughing hysterically, I feel the need to edit some paperwork and letter records Mad Secretary has pout in the file.

Her name is Mrs. F. Not Long John F

Letters addressed to her should start “dear Mrs. F.” Not “Ahoy Cap’n F, Arrr.”

The use of the word “arrr” is not necessary. Ever.

None of her pets want a cracker.

She will be paying in pounds sterling. Not pieces of eight, doubloons or purloined Spanish gold.

She is divorcing her husband. Not keelhauling him. His mistress does not need “a lick of the cat”

No timbers will be shivered. No mainbraces will be spliced. We had a business lunch over coffee because my schedule was tight, we didn’t go to the Salty Seadog for any kind of rum.

I am her lawyer, not in any way shape or form am I to be referred to as ‘matey’. Nor are we shipmates or landlubbers.

We all have diets with adequate vitamin C. None of us have scurvey.

There will be no mention of treasure maps. Not even ones that lead to the city treasury.


This is of course deeply insensitive and it must stop now or face me at my most censorious. Yes, it is bad and wrong, yes, yes it is. And not at all funny. No, no it’s not.

Ah hell, there’s no way I’m going to get through this interview without hearing those “Arrrs” in my head. I’m doomed.



Edit to add:
The lock box that the firm has opened to store goods for her has been opened under the name "David Jones." Bad bad secretary.

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