Meg got an email in the not too distant past about an old colleague that had passed away. And where, pray tell, does the “cross your heart bra come in?”. Well, she had a penchant for very tight polyester clothing, and very dark black hair. One could help not notice there were certain similarities to Jane Russell, and it seemed like pretty safe nickname to use.
That person was in fact, Meg’s boss for a brief but memorable time. Memorable for the fact that each and every woman working under her barely escaped her wrath, and inevitably transferred to another part of the company as quickly as possible.
At first, the lively group of Human Resource assistant’s got a kick out of their boss. Although not the most attractive of people, “Jane” did seem to have a sense of humor. How quickly that changed when she was charged to manage six young and attractive girls. Let’s just say a lot of drama ensued.
“Jane” frequently dragged her minions into her office for slight offenses, or just to gab. Sometimes she regaled Meg with stories of menopause and how she was due for a “lube job“. Other times there were tales from the past; like the time she got a poison pen letter left on her desk. Ever the clever one, she told Meg she stayed after work one day and test drove each and every IBM selectric typewriter, just to see which one had the slightly shifted “s”. Because Jessica Fletcher from the dark side saw the fan letter contained a peculiar “s” and this was how she solved the mystery of the person that didn’t like her. She also advised Meg that her outfits were fabulous, but could be construed as snobby. Conversely, she said “don’t ever change.” Then she pulled a photo out of her wallet from sometime in the 40′s or 50′s, and said “just look at me here. Look at that dress. Look how gorgeous I was.” Sigh. “The problem was for me back then, I was just TOO beautiful.”
Ah, yeah. OK.
Jane’s obit was something to behold, because every other word was pious, holy, religious, faithful, catechism and ultimately the arms of God. There were things in there I’m quite sure were lies, and well, I guess if you write you own exit from this earth, you can say what you want about yourself.
When I see something like that, it kind of makes me sad. It seems at the end of one’s life, you would want meaningful words and sentences like “good sense of humor”, “kind to people and dogs”, “lived and experienced life to it’s fullest“. Will be missed.
Not “I am so fucking scared I won’t get into heaven that I’ll fudge my obituary so my resume looks good for the afterlife.” And well, that’s how it came across.
As Meg and her colleagues transferred out of Jane’s department, they threw themselves a big old party, and made funny speeches. Meg and her friend also made an eerie voodoo doll, all dressed in polyester, with a hand crafted bullet bra. The doll came with a set of sayings, one of which said “Jane leaves her colleagues a “cross your heart but never tell the truth bra“.
And so it turns out to be true in the afterlife, too.