“Well,” I said, putting on my tap shoes and winging it, “how about a column called ‘Tattler Tales’? Each month, an employee would tell about an experience dealing with clients. I bet there are all sorts of wonderful stories your people could tell. It might be a nice human interest touch. And maybe the person whose story is chosen could get a free dinner in a nice restaurant. Employees might try harder to accommodate customers, hoping to make it into the newsletter.”

“Very good, Jaine!” Andrew beamed.

I was happy to see that several of the bank managers were nodding in approval.

“Hmm,” Sam said, with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

Why did I get the feeling she’d been hoping I’d fall flat on my face?

“Any other thoughts?” she asked.

She had to be kidding.

“Well, no,” I conceded. “Not right now.”

“Then if you’ll excuse us, there are a few things I’d like to discuss with the others in private.”

Suddenly I felt like a sorority pledge about to be blackballed.

“Better take home a copy of the Tattler,” she ordered, “so you can think up more ideas.”

I grabbed the newsletter, murmured something about what a pleasure it was to have met everybody, and headed out the door, hoping my tush didn’t look too tubby as I made my exit.

By this time, it was nearly noon and I was weak with hunger. I hadn’t eaten a thing all morning. But before I could think of eating, I simply had to pee. I must’ve slugged down at least three cups of Union National coffee in that meeting, not to mention the coffee I’d had at home.

I dashed down the corridor into the bathroom and flung myself into a stall. I was glad nobody else was in the room to hear me. Trust me, it was Niagara Falls in there.

What a relief. Now I’d head over to the nearest McDonald’s as fast as my Corolla could carry me, and stuff my face with a Quarter Pounder and fries.

I’d just unlatched my stall when I looked up and, much to my surprise, saw a man walking into the bathroom. Good heavens. What was a guy doing in here? Then I looked beyond the sinks and saw a row of urinals. Unless they’d started installing tiny showers in ladies’ rooms, I’d run into the men’s room by mistake!

I could’ve sworn the little blue figure on the bathroom door was a woman. But in my haste, I could’ve been mistaken.

I quickly darted back into the stall.