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Oct. 18th, 2004 02:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thessalianDear Dr Slevin
Thank you for finally going home as re the pain caused by your recent dental work. Your stupid appointment was late, so he can go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut for all we care. You have a busy schedule and he has to respect that. I will cover for you; it is my job. He will know better than to be late again.
Dear Dr Slater
It is not my fault that the library no longer carries the New England Journal of Medicine in hard copy. Neither is it my fault that my screamingly busy schedule prevented me from finding this out until fifteen minutes before you breezed in the door. Please don't grump "Whatever" at me; I did my best.
Dear Dr Propper
Please stop using my desk as your personal junk pit. It is my personal junk pit, and you're getting my piles all messed up. I still suspect you of being the reason I lost the courier's number for the second or third time this week. Have a little respect for your secretary's personal space, please.
Regards,
Your hardworking secretary.
Dear Deity of Questionable Existence
Pop Will Eat Itself have apparently got back together to play three gigs in the near future. One of them is in Shepherd's Bush. This may actually prove you exist. Now, if I can get through this gig migraine-free, it will be certain. Thank you, thank you, and gracias thank you!
Thank you for finally going home as re the pain caused by your recent dental work. Your stupid appointment was late, so he can go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut for all we care. You have a busy schedule and he has to respect that. I will cover for you; it is my job. He will know better than to be late again.
Dear Dr Slater
It is not my fault that the library no longer carries the New England Journal of Medicine in hard copy. Neither is it my fault that my screamingly busy schedule prevented me from finding this out until fifteen minutes before you breezed in the door. Please don't grump "Whatever" at me; I did my best.
Dear Dr Propper
Please stop using my desk as your personal junk pit. It is my personal junk pit, and you're getting my piles all messed up. I still suspect you of being the reason I lost the courier's number for the second or third time this week. Have a little respect for your secretary's personal space, please.
Regards,
Your hardworking secretary.
Dear Deity of Questionable Existence
Pop Will Eat Itself have apparently got back together to play three gigs in the near future. One of them is in Shepherd's Bush. This may actually prove you exist. Now, if I can get through this gig migraine-free, it will be certain. Thank you, thank you, and gracias thank you!