In which she faces the music and waltzes

I had a long, serious meeting with my cowboy boss this morning. I was scheduled to meet with my professor boss in the afternoon and tell him the whole horrible truth about his brand new shiny deficit of ($249,000).

“Will he be mad, do you think?” I wondered.

“Oh yeah,” said the cowboy.

“Will he yell?” I asked.

“Hoo boy, yes. He’s gonna hit the roof.”

“What should I do? Should I just sit through it?”

“Yes, just wait him out. He’ll rant and scream for awhile and then calm down eventually.”

Heart in mouth crowding my foot, I crept up the stairs to my professor boss’s office, clutching my backup paperwork like an 8″x11″ rosary. I gingerly laid the debt on his desk in front of him and waited, eyes squeezed shut, to be fired.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” said this calm, kind gentleman who I suddenly remembered had been my boss all along, even as my other boss has always been a little psychotic and prone to fits of hyperbole and drinking in the office. “Here’s how we can fix that,” said my lamb of a professor boss, and fixed it beautifully, and with all the weight that has been lifted from me I think I will become a model.