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Dear Ann Landers,
had to smile when I read the letter from the secretary whose boss couldn't keep his hands to him-self. She said his "fatherly" pats had become bold pinches and squeezes, and she wanted your advice on how to keep him in line without jeopardizing her job. It so happens that I am a boss, and my problem is a secretary who won't keep her hands off me. I am fifty-nine and no handsome lover-type. My secre-tary is twenty-nine and extremely attractive. She is also very competent and knows this office from top to bottom. If I fired her, it would take months to train a new girl. This pawing has been going on for nine years. Please tell me what to do. I am in urgent need of an answer.-Also Upacrick

Dear Also,
If you have been "suffering" with the problem for nine years, it can't be very urgent. I will give you the same advice I gave that secretary: Kwitcherkiddin'. EIGHT STICKS AND STONES . . can break my bones but words can never hurt me." This familiar childhood taunt is the feebler disclaimer of one whose feelings have been hurt. It has a nice ring to it but very little truth. Words can do more than wound. They can destroy. Every sack of my mail contains letters from victims of words. Twisted words repeated with malice, savage words uttered in anger, foolish words born of ignorance. And there is consider-able evidence to support Goethe's sardonic statement: "When ideas fail, words can be a convenient substitute." A phrase can elevate the blood pressure, produce tempo-rary deafness, or start a five-alarm family fight. Some of the best-known catalysts are these: "When I was your age-" "I'm going to tell you something for your own good-" "Give me the keys to the car. You are in no condition to drive-" After examining battle patterns for a dozen years, it is ob-vious that a surprising number of people consciously or un-consciously use anger-provoking phrases because they prefer a violent argument to being ignored. "When he fights with me he is acknowledging my presence" is the way a Fort Wayne reader put it. This chapter tells of trouble that started with a few ill- chosen words. The point here is best exemplified in the old Russian adage: "You are the master of the unspoken word. Once the word has passed your lips, you are no longer the master-you are the slave."



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A Note from Margo:
Hi! It's Margo here. I'd love to know what you think of the letters -- and the answers!

Also, any additional thoughts you might have. Thanks!
 
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Dear Readers,
, whatever they needed I provided. What really hurt my son and I the most was the obituary - we were not mentioned at all. Our friends (mine and hers) were appalled. I was embarrassed and upset for not just me, but for my son-who loved her also. I never been so upset. Her x-husband put his wife and kids and their grandchildren in the obituary, who my girlfriend barely knew. They live an hour away from us. I know its silly to be mad over a little section of the newspaper, but it still hurts. Will time let this devastating loss of her and this article ever go away? I am so angry at this whole situation, its not like we can go and rewrite an obituary notice.

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"Nobody ever drowned in his own sweat."
-Ann Landers