My Boss is a Serial Killer by Christina Harlin Page A

won’t put up with it
again.”
    “ Nor should you.” Bill looked as I had
felt—fascinated. “Were you good at your job?”
    “ I have no idea,” I confessed. “The
only positive feedback I ever got from him was over completely
stupid things, like my ability to look up numbers in phone
books.”
    “ But your resume says you worked there
for several years.”
    “ I was tricked. He didn’t really start
to show his true colors until I’d been with him long enough to join
the 401(k) plan.”
    “ Golden handcuffs,” said Bill. “They
make it so you can’t afford to leave, and then they stick it to
you.”
    A new code word. I gave him my first genuine
smile.
    “ What do you think of this?” he asked,
showing me the insanely neat document from before.
    “ I think you have a lot of strict
expectations that might take some getting used to. But then again,
that document looks great.”
    “ Thanks.” The smile he returned was
genuine, too. He said, “I’m sorry Terry Bronk got to you
first.”
    I recoiled physically, though I tried to
sound diplomatic. “Oh, er, I don’t think I’d do well working for
Mr. Bronk.”
    “ Really? You don’t want to work for the
managing partner?”
    Unable to help it, I muttered, “I don’t think
I have the perseverance.”
    A small eruption of laughter exploded from
Bill Nestor, and he put a hand over his mouth to stifle it. I
couldn’t help but laugh too, mostly from the surprise. Though his
office door was closed, Bill lowered his voice when he said,
“Terry’s the only partner left. One is dead, one is supposedly
retired, and Simms is running a hotel in Florida and we haven’t
seen her in years. I shouldn’t say this, but there’s a rumor among
the attorneys that Terry Bronk ate them in a fit of
perseverance.”
    Wide-eyed I stared at him.
    Bill, recovered from his laughter, admitted,
“I’ve lost count of how many secretaries I’ve had.”
    “ But you need one,” I reminded him,
“and if you decide to offer me the position, I’ll be willing to
try.”
    “ The work is repetitive and fairly
dull. Estate work doesn’t have the thrills of litigation. I do it
because of my problems with stress; that’s how uninteresting it can
be.”
    “ Nevertheless.” I shrugged. “I’m sure
you have other people to interview. But keep me in mind. I’ve had
enough thrills in litigation.”
    We shook hands. We agreed that it was nice to
meet each other.
    Later that day, Donna called me at home to
tell me that, if I was sure I didn’t want to work for Terry Bronk,
Bill Nestor’s secretary job was available. I took the job with
Bill, and I’ve never regretted it. After I’d been with the firm for
a few weeks, someone, said that I’d been offered a choice between
working for Attila the Hun or Rainman, and I’d chosen Rainman. I
couldn’t imagine anyone preferring to work for someone as
“high-maintenance” as Terry Bronk, but an attorney like Bill
presents his own challenges. In response to the Terry Bronks of the
world, you get angry, or you cry, or you bow down under their
tyranny and bear it. Responding to Bill takes more finesse and
patience than that, and I guess between the two, I’d chosen what
many considered the more difficult path.

*****
    I’m not sure what filled the time at offices
before the Internet came along. Terrible rumors circulate that in
some offices, employees are restricted from Internet use or can
only visit sites that have something to do with their actual jobs.
I guess we got lucky at MBS&K, where they didn’t monitor our
Internet usage, though they probably should have. We could have
been on the West Coast, we surfed so much. I suppose that, provided
work was finished on time, they decided that their resources were
better spent on buying fancy new monitors for attorneys who didn’t
know how to use computers. I didn’t debate the logic behind that,
because it meant I could check out the TV schedule at
bbcamerica.com without being