A Jennifer

My brother visited over the weekend. He told me that on his last business trip he accidentally left his power cord to his laptop at his home. But that was okay, he said, because he just called Jennifer and she went to his house and Fed Ex'ed it to him. He has myriad stories of his administrative assistant coming to his rescue. She sounds amazing. Her name is Jennifer.

I want a Jennifer. It's that simple. I have many boring, tedious tasks that get in the way of what I love-teaching. I don't want to send out billing statements or file. I don't like to make recital programs. I want to explore the realms of sound, or lose track of time within a sonata or a nocturne or study something new. As my brother put it, he's paid way too much money to handle these small details. And that is probably true.

So, okay, I'll compromise. How about a Mr. French from the TV series "Family Affair". Sebastian Cabot looked the part, even in his apron. He did all those household jobs I find unappealing and less than glamorous. I wondered for awhile if I could ever reach a point where this was an option. The answer is no.

I used to BE a Jennifer. I was the executive administrative secretary for the president of a Fortune 500 company. Nice title, no glam. There were many jobs that I should not have been asked to do. There was an abuse of power. Never again. My brother shared an article in Esquire magazine that talked about hiring "Your Man in India". Hmmmm, I'm not really interested in someone far away.

My life has been overrun with errands and wrap-up details. Post recital day involves a dress for the dry cleaner, keys to return to the church, paperwork regarding the guild scores and their meanings, a note to headquarters regarding my confidential opinion of our judge (marvelous, by the way), and so many little squirrelly organizational things. Emails and letters have piled up. Digging out will take a few days.

I guess I'll try to find the satisfaction of a job well done, even in the little things. But I hope you can hear me. grumble, grumble, grumble....