The job, they said, was yours. No problems, no issues, no one else. But didn't they just lie? Well, of course.

She sat there staring at the faculity director's face and wondered, what kind of a person is she? Is she someone's favourite grandmother, aunt, or godparent? Someone's best friend? She looked on whilst the drivel came out of the director's mouth. "I am sure you understand", "Couldn't be any other way", "Most regrettable."

She jerked to life now, inflamed by the director's honey sweet lies. "Most regrettable?" She was mad now, and let fly, "Most regrettable? What is regrettable is that you told me this was my job and then changed the position's requirements. What is most regrettable is that you, yes you, have stuck me in the crap up to my neck. There is nothing else out there now and I am out of money, you old witch!"

The director, thrown for just one tiny millisecond, responded, "Now, I can understand that you are a little distraught right now."

"NO!" she screamed, "No you don't understand. You have a nice new car, your own a house and the mortgage is paid, there is food in your cupboard and you can play God with people's lives. All my bills are due, I have an old car and the RENT is due. There is no one, NO ONE, smiling behind me! There is no money in my bank account!"

"My dear," the director purred, "We aren't getting anywhere the whole time you are displaying such anger"

"No, you are right," she calmly responded, "We are not getting anywhere." She slowly raised the pistol from her bag. "Sometimes", she said, "Sometimes we all like to follow our dreams."