The Bright Womens Dictionary of Thought

Every so often, my brother decides he needs to understand the opposite sex a little better. Of course, these moments are rare. Sometimes he seems to be fairly good at this skill of understanding us ladies, but at other times, he simply overlooks the obvious. This morning, he stopped by the insurance agency where I work, which is not a usual thing for him to do. I saw his face by the doorway before he noticed me, and his expression reminded me of a little puppy pouting. Something was wrong, and I imagined I could guess what it was.

"Wife problems?" I asked, smiling warmly. Being his sister, I always believed I was an authority on him, having grown up with this handsome, fun-loving, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy, who is now at least five inches taller than I am. This should be a piece of cake, I thought, as I said, "Take a seat."

My chair is nothing exceptional. It is a straightbacked, stationary, black plastic body holder - nothing more. There are only two extra chairs in the entire office.

One is usually pushed securely against the wall, partly because the back part of the chair is ready to fall off. Of course, as my boss so often reminds me, there just aren't lots of funds for nice amenities such as new chairs. The insurance company where I work is staffed by just the agent and me-and from what I have been able gather during the nearly twelve months I have worked here, it doesn't seem do a lot of business-just enough to get by. Still, all in all, the place has a somewhat cheery feel to it, and the customers who come here seem very loyal.