When you've been working at the same job for fifteen years and still feel insecure about it, you're in a vulnerable position. The new work the Company is getting these days is a two-edged sword. It enhances my job security, because I know the Company will be around for a bit longer. But it also dumps more paperwork on my already overloaded desk.

It's not something I'm likely to complain about, because it's the goal we've been working toward all these years. We're at maximum capacity out in the field, and I'm doing my best to keep up here in the office. As long as I do keep up, I'm in a strong position. If I were to fall behind, or ask for help, I'd be back on the edge of the cliff again.

The sales staff is making it as hard as possible on me, but it's not their job to make it easy. It's their job to sell, and they're doing such a good job that I'm starting to lose ground. They've sold a new housing development on a special product that we can provide for them, but instead of selling it through the developer, they've made separate deals with the individual homeowners.

That's how one big job that's easy to keep track of becomes twenty little jobs that I have to herd together like a sheepdog.

I'm not ready to give up yet. The Boss has always had this vision of a rosy future for the Company, but I've never allowed myself to believe it. That's because I see too many of the nuts and bolts, and I know how close we've been to having everything fall apart.

There have been times in these fifteen years when I've been laid off temporarily. I've seen all the other office staff let go. Some went one by one, while others branched off to form a separate company. (I don't think they made it, but I lost contact with them.) So I've often had the sense that the Boss was either kidding himself, or trying to con the rest of the world. Probably it was a little of both.

Maybe I just have to believe in the future now, because without the Company I'm not sure I have one. At my age, I'd have to have mad skills to be marketable, and I'm just an office frump that knows how to get along. That's fine for someone who's well entrenched in an organization, but you can't sell it to someone who's looking for a young, energetic go-getter.

I'm lucky to be here now, because I never was that dazzling young star. I've always been the draught mule, never the racehorse. In a few years I'll be sniffing the barn and looking for someone to muck out my stall.