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Having worked as a secretary, for Brice solicitors, for 12 years, and for the last two, as a PA to Mr Jenkins, he informed me, today, that I no longer had what it takes, and that he had hired another, much younger woman, a teenager, fresh out of high school - would you believe it - to take my place. ‘The bitch,' I said to myself, as I fumed at her, more than his decision.   All the way home, going first by tram and then bus, I become more livid, and just as equally upset. ‘How could he, after all these years of service,' I repeatedly say to myself.   As I walk along the copse to my house, I notice Kevin and Michael, two of my son's friends, playing ball. And, as I get nearer, they must notice my upset disposition as they stop what they're doing, and come over.   "Are you okay, Mrs Rogers?" Kevin concernedly asks, as I near the gate to my pathway. "Ungh," I fume, as I open it, and stomp the few yards along the path to my front door.   "What's wrong, Joanna?" Michael, the taller and lankier of the two young men, asks me, as I turn the key in the lock.

"God! I'm so mad at her!" I ferociously exclaim, as they help me through the doorway, with Kevin, the shorter and fuller of them, closing it behind us. "It's just a double standard, I'm so angry," I continue to fume, as I make my way to the sofa, followed by the two consoling young men.   "Why? I mean," Michael says, as he sits down, followed by Kevin on the left.   "I go into the office today, and I get fired, because I'm too old. Do I look old? Do I look, old?" I quizzically say, turning to each of them before I sit inbetween them.   "No, you don't look, ...

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