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Trixie Rules!

Updated on July 7, 2011

She sits slumped in her cubicle, fingers flying over the office keyboard,

working hard. On her third game of Tetris. Her short dark blonde hair with its

crooked part is pulled back loosely with a scrunchie, and her pale blue eyes

focus intently on the monitor. At thirty-two years old, she has never been

married, nor has she been in a serious relationship. In times past, she would

have been called an old maid, but we call her Trixie.

Trixie wears no makeup to conceal the rosacea across her cheeks and short pert

nose, giving the false impression that she may have a secret drinking problem.

False because she enjoys being in control of her surroundings too much to hand

that control over to strong drink.

Trixie is compact, curvy and not very tall, but is comfortable with her lack of

height. She dresses to please herself. I recognize that blouse—she’s worn it

many times during the past five years. Fashion means nothing to her, comfort is


But she rules the office. Well, at any rate, she has the entire staff convinced

she could run the place by herself. It would be a dictatorship, however. And

depending on whether you were in her good graces, it could even be a benevolent

one. She’s practiced the laugh. You’ve even heard it: “Ah…ha..ha…I’ll get you my

pretty! And your little dog,too!” See my goose bumps?

Trixie prides herself on always being caught up on her work, and knows company

policy almost by memory. Her skills of observation are amazing, honed to

perfection from her early days as a newspaper reporter. It is rumored that she

will apply for the position of supervisor within the next few months. If she is

promoted, there could be a coincidental mass exodus of employees.

She drives a minivan. Not unusual, right? Except remember that she has no

children of her own—but her sister has seven, including some adopted, which

Trixie is helping to raise. Because Trixie lives with her sister and family, she

is relied on as a babysitter/chauffeur/nanny, and gleefully exults in the level

of need demonstrated for her presence. She has become a pack master for Boy

Scouts, which takes up several hours of her time and energy each week. She helps

with homework, orders chores to be done, makes lists upon lists in her quest to

be in charge and schedules every moment of vacations. Her involvement with her

family gives her a constant source of validation for her chosen state of

singleness. She appears secure in her position, knowing that she would never be

asked to leave because she provides so many invaluable services. She has made

herself irreplaceable.

Suddenly Trixie laughs. All is right with the world. Her neighbors in nearby

cubicles laugh with her. Her laughter ends with a snort, which becomes the

source of further hilarity. She is mistress of all she surveys; proven by her

competency at winning yet another game of Tetris.


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