Boss Throws Another Fit

Boss went berserk again this morning. She had been awfully decent for so long I guess it was about time.
What happened was, Colleague rang up and said her kid was sick, and that not only would she not be in today but she would not be in tomorrow either. That was enough. That really did it all right. The funny part was I heard Boss on the phone and she was nice to Colleague.
'Yes yes, that's OK. Oh well. Never mind. It's OK. Them's the breaks and all that jazz. See you next week then.'
But she slammed the phone down like she does. POW! Really hard. She really SLAMS that phone down. She's like a baseball pitcher. She winds up, then SLAM!
I was sitting there in front of the pigeonholes, already sorted the mail to open, waiting for Boss to come around from her cubicle. Around she came at high speed, vibrating with awesome rage, at a very high pitch of furious anger. She plonked herself down next to me picked up the date stamp opened a letter and brought the stamp down. POW! I jumped. The table shook. A miracle the thing didn't explode in a shower of tiny splinters.
Then she got down to it. Of course her plans would all go to hell. Why was everything she tried to do sabotaged? It wasn't fair. Also, employees didn't have to obey orders anymore. Back in her day you did what the boss said. Not today. Oh no. In fact, everybody is against managers.
'Everybody? Who is?' I said.
'Oh, just everybody!'
Then she got to this mail business.
'What other organisation has somebody like ME opening the mail? A MANAGER! With a DEGREE!' she shouted. 'It is so DEMEANING!'
Is it really so demeaning? I don't mind doing the mail at all. In fact I like doing the mail. But I dare not tell Boss that, especially at a time like this, when she is in berserk mode. I might get a letter opener in the neck.
But I'm not a manager, so maybe it is natural that it is not demeaning to me. I'm really a junior burger in the great organisational scheme of things, after all. Of course it doesn't matter if somebody comes in and sees me doing the mail. But for her, for Boss, who is a manager, maybe it really is demeaning! What do those people think if they come in and see her doing the mail? Sitting there with me (the *Mail Boy*), both of us holding a date stamp and a letter opener in front of all those stupid pigeonholes? And her the Manager! Oh the humiliation!
On and on she rages, slamming the date stamp down and flinging letters in my direction, letters for the pigeonholes on my side, actually throwing them. It seems insane. But what do I know? Maybe she has a point after all. Maybe I, the true and unashamed mail spazz, am simply too dull-witted to grasp it.