She could lie. She had to. She was loyal.
As secretary to ‘Head of Procurement’.
Excuse and cover-ups were just the norm.
Things left undone and he’d be missing somewhere,
Discussing golf, dissecting last week’s round.
And with him knackered from a heavy night,
She’d keep the world at bay and mother him
She could organise. And that was by default.
Competition forced a move to ‘Just in Time’.
With bought-in parts arriving on the hour.
No large inventory to take up slack.
No leeway anymore to make mistakes.
Frustrating detail fell into her lap.
He saw the BROADER sweep as his forte.
She had to make decisions since he wouldn’t.
Tomorrow seemed to be his favourite day.
When pushed hard for an answer, he’d get angry
And mutter something vague and walk away.
She’d glean from that a masterful solution,
To demonstrate the man’s unusual brilliance
Which he’d deprecate with seemly modesty.
She had to delegate. He lacked the time.
They were the first to go to J.I.T.
Which made him guru: company ambassador,
And in demand to speak at seminars.
His usual rush allowed no time to deputise,
Just hurried words flung at her from the door.
Yet subsequent smooth running proved their worth.
Still, he could talk. He was a natural showman.
He played the part of expert to perfection
And thrived on the attention that it brought.
Unaware of the near-magic transmutation
Of incoherent notes when they were typed.
The research that he’d pushed her way as routine
Had produced the REAL expert in the firm.
But she had to go. Somebody’s head must roll.
The lines had stopped for want of one small part.
This time, procrastination HAD withstood her prods.
Angrily, he charged she’d lost the paperwork
Having shredded it himself seconds before.
“All for the best,” he thought, “she’s grown TOO uppity.
Next thing she’d want to run the bloody show.”