The Case of the Mismanaged Ms.

It started out as one of those rare quiet mornings when I could count on having the office to myself. The Mets had won the World Series the night before, and most of the people in the office had celebrated late into the night at a bar across the street. I’m a fan too, but they all like to go to one of those bars where the waitresses dress like slave girls and the few women customers have to run a mine field of leers when they go to a ladies’ room labeled “Heifers.” Instead, I watched the game at home with my husband and escaped a hangover.