Eydie Medvigy was our office's administrative assistant/queen. She sat outside our project manager's office as his gatekeeper. She also supported the rest of us peons in the office with travel arrangements if you asked nicely. However, if she detected the least hint of disrespect, you might find your flight rerouted through Nantucket . . .
The Eydie Edict
So imperially she answers the phone,
One might think she’s an heir to the throne.
O’er the office she is sovereign alone,
And presides like a Judge Judy clone.
I’ve heard her on the telephone.
Of one thing I am sure:
For excess of testosterone
She seems to know the cure.
Poor ol’ George knows you can’t try to boss her,
And the last thing you want is to cross her.
If you want to be part of her team,
You must show her your highest esteem.
I’ve seen a fighter pilot blink
Confronted by her stare.
I bet she’d make Paul Bunyon shrink
Beneath her wordless glare.
Here’s a warning to all personnel:
I implore you to treat Eydie well.
If you don’t, she can make your life Hell:
End up crushed like a white Zinfandel.
I saw a guy get crosswise once—
It’s like he never learned—
He could have worn a cap marked DUNCE
As much as he got burned.
If she makes a suggestion, don’t buck it,
Or your flight may end up in Nantucket.
And with no place to piss but a bucket,
You are likely to go and say, “Fine, Eydie, you win . . .”
As you take your last cough drop and suck it.
We are going to miss you dearly.
John M. Campbell
1 December 2000
Next Poem: Sarah's Graduation