How much can you take?
|The eruption surprised Christine McCaskill, and she was the one who erupted. “This is the last straw!” she shouted at Mr. Krane. Christine’s outburst echoed around Mr. Krane’s enormous office, ricocheting from the walls, off his framed Wharton Business School diploma and over to the photo of two smiling men, Mr. Krane and President Ronald Reagan, leaning casually on their drivers at the first tee of a golf course,. Christine thought she saw her astonishing fireworks setting ablaze Mr. Krane’s ice-blue eyes, which regarded her intently.
“Mr. Krane, I’m so sorry,” Christine stammered.
“In five years, that’s the loudest sound I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” said Mr. Krane.
“I know,” Christine said. “I don’t know why I did that. It’s just that the new work you’re describing, it’s so much more than I’m already doing. And I’m already staying several nights a week. I’m coming in on weekends, too– I don’t know if you’re aware of that.”
“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Krane. “I’m aware.”
“I never complain,” said Christine. And it was true. Not a peep, just did her work. And she did it better than anyone in the office. She knew it. Everyone knew it, they must have. “But I don’t know how I can do what you’re describing on top of my regular work. I mean, it’s like a whole new job. No, Mr. Krane. I have to say no.” Christine bit her lip, but she stared straight into Mr. Krane’s arctic eyes.
“It IS a whole new job,” said Mr. Krane.
“What?” said Christine.
“I want you to head the department, with a significant salary increase.” Mr. Krane smiled, and Christine thought she saw the ice in his eyes melt away. “You’re the best we have, and you deserve it.”
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