Secretaries | TheArticle

These days, the secretary is truly an endangered species. Maybe that’s just as well. But back in the 1960s, it was the stuff of status and stereotypes. To “have a secretary” meant you had

reached the dizzy heights of a career. Unfortunately, I never got quite that far. Others I knew did, and from their tales, I observed two regularly recurring clichés at opposite ends of the

spectrum. First was the “old lech boss” (OLB), assuming that they became instantly irresistible to any woman they worked with, always combined with the “reasonable young woman”. In these

cases, the stories tended to be told by the women. One such example came from a young woman who started her working life as a secretary for an OLB, whose reputation for liking ladies

preceded him. Apparently, he used to chase her round the desk quite regularly. One day, she had had enough. On the third lap around, as his hand reached out for her, a heavy stapler swiftly

found its way down onto it with a thud. One broken bone later, the point was quite clear. The incident was never mentioned by either of them, and they worked harmoniously together until she

got married to a research student, who some time later became the Vice-Chancellor of a major British university. Second, was the polar opposite — the cliché of the “old dragon secretary”

(ODS), and the “reasonable young boss”. Unsurprisingly, this kind of story tended to be told by the man. I heard such a story from Charlie, a colleague of mine for several years, who landed

a big job. He became the Head of a major Electronics Research Laboratory, overseeing some 50 PhDs. Charlie’s secretary was a perfect example of the role cast as an “ODS”. She had worked in

the office for over 30 years, and everyone was afraid of her fire-breathing tendencies. Charlie was no Saint-George. He had no intention of slaying the dragon (not that he would have stood a

chance). Instead, he decided that his best course of behaviour was absolute obedience. Whatever the ODS demanded, he accepted with thanks. The first communication between them on Day One

went as follows: ODS: “You see, in the corner, there is a rather large drinks cabinet containing a wide variety of drinks from sherries to the finest whiskies. It is there only for purposes

of entertainment; you are not to empty it quickly. Whenever you have visitors, I shall unlock the cabinet for you myself, and shall lock it again when you all leave for lunch. The key will

stay in my possession. I don’t want you to have to resist any temptation. I hope you have no objections.” Charlie (meekly): “No, nothing, no objection at all. If that was the arrangement in

the past, I will happily go along with that.” “Yes, that has always been the arrangement,” the ODS confirmed, perhaps a little too dryly. Charlie was a busy man. He spent a lot of time in

the Laboratory, twiddling knobs. At the time, it was unheard of for a man of such seniority not to take lunch in the Directors’ Dining Room. However, Charlie preferred a simple lunch of

sandwiches at his desk. When he had visitors, the ODS would appear, there to open the drinks cabinet at the start of the meal, and to lock it carefully before he returned to the Lab. This

went on for maybe seven or eight weeks. Then, one day, the old dragon knocked on his door, entered and addressed him in a tone of great admiration: “I have been watching you over the past

few weeks. Your main interest is clearly in the Lab and the boys and girls who do the experiments. I have decided that I can trust you. You hardly drink anything.” She presented him with the

key to the infamous drinks cabinet. Honoured, Charlie pocketed the key, thanked her profusely, and went off to listen to a seminar in the Lecture Room. Another six weeks went by. Charlie

and the ODS had developed a good working relationship; they actually got on quite well. But one day, the topic of the cabinet arose again: “Charlie, you are a pleasure to work with. You are

popular in the Lab, as you know. You are always very reasonable, that I appreciate. So, I am very sorry to have to make this request. May I have the key to the cabinet back?” Charlie was

upset. “Why?” he asked indignantly. “I can give you the key if that is what you want, but why? I work hard, I hardly socialise, and I wouldn’t touch a drop of alcohol in that precious

cabinet of yours outside those times. Why do you want the key back?” “That is all true,” said the ODS, “you don’t drink…but you eat all the peanuts!” A MESSAGE FROM THEARTICLE _We are the

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