What also was a shame was Mom’s stress level. It was through the roof. Sometimes after too much wine at dinner, Mom would complain about how she had been hired to be a fantastical analytical insurance Veep; but the boss who hired her did so because she, herself, had no analytics skills and needed cover – her boss with the peroxide blonde hair and a deceivingly soft voice, a body type that was less voluptuous than fat and typically dressed in form fitting polyester, wrap-style dresses without a girdle. Her mother’s boss was also a bully, prone to jealous tantrums that sent Paige’s mother’s blood pressure sky-high. Good thing, though, that her mother exercised. The worst part was that Paige’s mother’s boss’s boss encouraged this behavior. That man resembled a real-life cartoon-like character in a movie, like Jim Carrey in Mask, minus the apple green complexion, with that same strange smile filled with once bad teeth recently replaced by too-white and unnatural implants who, unfortunately, was no fan of her mother.