b***h of a Job
By Eva Hore
I hated my job. Hated it even more tonight as we’d been working late all week and I was exhausted. Marcia, my boss, was feeling generous for a change and told us all to call into the local pub to have a few drinks to unwind. Normally I wouldn’t bother, but, with her picking up the tab, I thought, "why not?"
Norma, one of the other secretaries, was worn out, but I insisted we have at least one drink and then go. Most of the others gravitated towards a table, but Norma and I sat at the bar. We needed to be by ourselves. The others were younger, had more stamina, and were happy to drink the night away.
I ordered two double Scotches. We clinked glasses. The fiery liquid coursed its way through my veins and hit me dead in the stomach. It was just what I needed. I
