Dither

It was "Donna's in a Dither Day" at work, and the office was hushed (in careful clumps of gossiping). Donna was a lot when she was like this ... A LOT a lot; the slammed doors, raised voices, no shows/cancels/last minute reschedules, and blame for balls dropped pointedly redirected were de rigueur. Van smiled; it was her last day and it was time. She entered Donna's office without invitation and locked it without courtesy; Van put a hand up when Donna began to coil and firmly spoke the word, "Stop." Making direct eye contact with a stunned Donna, Van took a deep breath and smiled. "Your life is like a bad haircut," she said quietly. "It's red carpet coif in the front and thrift store Flowbee in the back; while you spend an exorbitant amount of energy trying to convince the world it's manageable, it's growing out like a train wreck and everyone can see." Donna's mouth hung open; she was so stunned that she stepped back and dropped into her chair. "If you have any real friends left, take them out for a 4-star meal and listen to their advice; follow every last bit of it. Let them shape you up and give you a new baseline - suffer through it; you clearly lack wisdom and perspective ... that's why the patch job of your existence is coming apart. Stop glowing up and start growing up, Donna. Have a nice day." Van left and punched out, giving her temp desk a quick tidy before leaving; out in her car, she called The Virtues to report in. "This is Vanitas," she said (smiling). "My assignment is complete."