Were I not the boss I would be carrying my packedlunch(a slice of bread and a banana) to office by now. Don’t ask why – blame iton January blues.
I see Sheila(my secretary) with thosekindergarten-plastic containers(mind you it started this week). For the firstten days of the month Sheila leaves office by 12:30pm for lunch. Rumour has itthat she luncheonettes from the most expensive restaurants(with exoticcuisines) in town. By twentieth she eats from the company canteen(not more thanfifty shillings a day); and by month end she has no money left to afford hersuch luxury(packed lunch in the office suffices).
Why not mind my own business? Well, I’m the boss, anda behavioural psychologist(added advantage). I study my employees well to knowand understand them better.
As the boss I have a hefty meal allowance that affordsme six star service from any six star hotel in the city frommonth-end-to-month-end. I even chattered a chopper to take me to lunch atSerena Hotel once – talk of beating the Nairobi lunch rush hour traffic, orjust showing off. But I am alone, ever. I wonder what’s it with me even thefinancial director can’t even ask me out for lunch.
Since, as the boss, I ain’t that broke I am notlooking forward to end month. I’m spinning the wheels of my head on how to getsome guy buy me flowers(strictly flowers, no lingerie and some other funny redstuff) come valentine’s day.
I am looking forward to February. By the end of theweek, methinks, some lucky guy would be crooning for me as I drift off tosleep.
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