Word: desks
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...themselves on a waiting list or pull whatever strings it's not too late to pull. The majority of us, however, react the way any normal person would to the news that we're not wanted: we tear the letters into shreds or bury them deep in our desk drawers, and hang out heads for at least the remainder of the day. No matter if there is a official explanation-- "I'm only a sophomore and they asked for seniors"--or an easy rationalization-- "I didn't want the job anyway; who wants to stay in Boston for the summer...
...glance at the pile of textbooks stacked high on my desk is a constant reminder that the never-ending cycle of work can only be ignored for a while. This cycle, work-sleep-work-work-don't -sleep-work-CRASH, seems an unavoidable and undesirable downward spiral, the end result of which remains mysterious...
...Clinton did everything Jones accused him of doing, it still didn't amount to sexual harassment or assault under the law. There was no evidence, Wright found, that Jones had been harmed by the episode: Jones' argument that she didn't get flowers on Secretaries' Day, that her desk had been moved, that she was discouraged from going after a better state job and too emotionally distressed to function sexually wasn't convincing. Not in the light of her merit raises, her own testimony that there had been no retaliation or the fact that she had never complained...
President Clinton's office on Air Force One has a small desk, a couch, magazines scattered about and, these days, a new boom box. As he flew home from Africa Thursday night, he listened to Charlie Parker and Wynton Marsalis. Like the music, his mood was a complex mix of mellowness and energy in the aftermath of the dismissal of the Paula Jones suit. Although the feeling inside the White House is that he has been the victim of a protracted personal assault funded by right-wing money, Clinton is wary about speaking out publicly, because he and his advisers...
...tyrants could bring a presidency to the brink of destruction. But Paula Jones has democratized the calculus of scandal. She earned $12,000 working for something called the Arkansas Industrial Development Commission--surely the bureaucratic equivalent of the Maytag repair service. One spring day, as she manned a registration desk at a conference, fate brought her into the line of sight of her Governor, who allegedly divined beneath her frothy perm a "come-hither" look. A state trooper appeared at her side, imploringly. She rose from her chair and stepped into the roiling currents of American history...