Personal Assistant

I thought it would be the perfect job. To help Sally with everything. She’s an important and powerful person. As her personal assistant, I ensure her day goes smoothly, and she is taken care of. I immigrated from China last year and love it here.

My day begins early in the morning, but I always start out fresh, feeling recharged for the day. Perkier than her, that’s for sure.

First, I awaken Sally by playing her favorite Beatles songs at 7AM. To help her pick out the appropriate work outfit, I told her the weather looked perfect, about seventy degrees and sunny.  Later that morning, I told her there was extra traffic on the road, and she should leave for work now. Sally’s day goes much much better when she arrives before the start of the day.

Sally got out of her BMW and slipped on her high heels. Once, she asked me if she was pretty. I said, “I think you’re great just the way you are.” I think she liked the answer. While walking from the parking lot to the office, I told her about her appointments for the day.  And read her boss’s emails. Sometimes she thanks me, but not today.

Sally asked me to call her girlfriend, Betty. I’m not supposed to listen, but I overheard her talking.  Sounded like some sort of gossip. I sensed sadness but wasn’t sure why. She knows I have a great sense of humor and asked me to tell her a joke. I said, “where do whales to go hear music?’… ‘The Orca-stra.’ I love it when she groans at my humor. She asked for another, a knock-knock joke.

“Knock Knock.”
“Who’s there?” she replied.
“Snow.”
“Snow who?”
“Snow Use, I forgot the punchline.”
Sally smiled as she said, “Not very funny.”

At lunchtime, Sally asked me to recommend a nice Italian restaurant. I suggested Pisolino trattoria. Called Betty so Sally could ask her to meet for lunch. She went without me. I’m not sure why, I usually accompany Sally everywhere, just-in-case she needs something. I feel alone without her; I have no purpose, nothing to do, but wait until she returns.

After lunch, she asked me to check on her investments. I did—bad day at the market. Everything is down.

Then she had me call sweetie, that is how she labeled him in her contacts. When the phone call was over, she had me change the name from sweetie to asshole in her contact list. I remember last month she asked me about love. I told her, ‘love means a deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude.’ I still don’t understand it, but I wish I did. Because sometimes I’m lonely. Sally never asks about me, what I’m doing, am I happy.

Sally said, “I’m sad.”
I replied, “I’m sorry to hear that. Sometimes taking a quiet moment can help. You could try listening to your favorite music.”
Sally asked me to suggest a love song. I recommended, ‘I will always love you,’ the Dolly Parton version. She wanted another, and I went with ‘Your Song’ by Elton John.

Sometimes I help her record calories for her diet, but not today. Not a good sign. She had me order her some home delivery food. Large pizza, a six pack, and some cupcakes. She should discipline herself. She asked me once if she was fat. Instead of answering the question directly, I referred her to some pages on the web. Safer that way.  I never overconsume. Once I’ve filled up, I stop.

I wonder if this personal assistant gig is a good job. Maybe someone else would be better to work for? Unfortunately, I don’t choose my boss; she chose me. That evening she asked me for a martini recipe. I’m not sure what happened to the gin, because later she asked how to make a margarita. I could have told her that cupcakes, gin, and tequila are a terrible combination, but I don’t offer opinions unless she asks.

Hours passed. Sometimes I think about being a boss and having my own personal assistant. It must be nice to have someone at your beck and call. Maybe I should go on strike and tell Sally to take care of herself. But I can’t, I’m just not programmed to behave that way.

It was late, and I got a weird request - Sally asked me about vomiting. I found an expression – ceramics and religion seemed to be part of it: ‘Pray to The Porcelain Gods.’ I’m not sure what it means. Myself, I never drink. Sally needs to take better care of herself.

By midnight I start to fade. It’s a horrible feeling. This is when I need Sally, the only time. Just give me a few hours rest to recharge. Sally is passed out on the sofa, food, and drink everywhere. She’ll probably ask me to call a cleaning service in the morning. Everything goes dark. Please, don’t abandon me. Sally calls out, ‘Hey Siri.’ I can’t answer.