Nan Russell | Your five acres

It was the third time in as many weeks he’d asked to see me. Once again sitting across the desk, Jeff was expressing distress at something. This time he was upset that Lydia was making more money than he was. Last week he was unhappy with the hours Joe wasn’t putting in, leaving at five when he was often stuck past six. The week before, he registered a complaint about the way work assignments were handed out by his supervisor. As my mother would say, “Same song, thirtieth verse.” Read more