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moment, take my word on that!”
A silence fell on the room as each of us turned and went to his work area, me at packing packages and Danny at the filled loading dock. Morning passed with some of the crew standing around Danny, gossiping and smirking. I ignored them.
“Never mind the assholes,” said Ramos, the Spanish stock boy. He didn’t hang out with the other stock boys, kept to himself. “The assholes are just jealous.”
I eyed him.
“Of what?”
He shrugged.
“Of you, you have the courage that they don’t have. You know what you are and what you want, and they can’t stand that.”
He winked, smiled, and went back to his work area. I was amazed. In the year I’d been at Doubleday’s there’d never been more then just a word between us. “Hey,” I’d say, “Hey,” he’d say. Now we’d had a real discussion. I felt good and warm, continuing to pack up book after book after book.
At about 11:30 I spotted Mr. Jennings coming into the basement. I felt awkward thinking about him as “Timmy.” That was his name, of course, but in the bookstore he was still “Mr. Jennings.” I blushed as he came to my work area.
“They want to see you upstairs,” he said. I couldn’t make anything out from his face, positive or negative.
He turned and went into Mr. David’s office. Without smiling, in case someone saw, I turned and got into the elevator which would take me to the corporate offices. I let myself beam broadly as the elevator door shut.
Miss Terri, a short-haired, neck-tied woman in a masculine suit, stood next to the secretary’s desk in the outer office, reading some papers. She glanced at me as I stepped out of the elevator. In her manly clothes and appearance, she made it evident that she was a bitter, unfriendly lesbian. I always dreaded running into her. She was known facetiously and quietly as “Mrs. Doubleday,” though no one dared say it aloud. She looked at me, shaking her head and sneering.
“Good,” she said to the secretary. “Just get rid of those commas.” The secretary made a disappointed face as Miss Terri turned to me and said, “Come this way.” I followed her into an office overlooking 5 th Avenue.
“You wear T-shirts to work,” she said sternly, “with dungarees?”
I winced.
“For downstairs I do, they all wear them. I hardly ever come upstairs unless I have to take something up.”
“What makes you think you’ll fit in? Do you have dress clothes, like a suit and tie, so you can look presentable?”
“Yes ma’am, they’ll be ready when I need them. I can be ready in a few days, just give the word,” and I smiled at her.
Her face remained immobile, looking at the papers on her desk.
“You worked for short times at Scribner’s and Brentano’s, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Stop with the ma’ams !” she flared, “Just say ‘yes’ or ‘no!’”
I nodded, very uneasy.
“Yes, but I’ve been here a year and a few months. I can do a very good job, I know I can. I just need a break.”
She glanced again at the paper.
“We don’t have anything right now. The economy is sluggish. But when it picks up we’ll call you. Oh, how much do you make, $1.25 an hour?” she looked at her paper. “You’re overdue for a raise, $1.30 an hour.” She wrote something down. “Thank you for stopping by. Good day.”
I was stunned. Mr. Jennings’s confidence that I could do well meant nothing to her. I looked at her, stood up and staggered from her office. I saw Connie talking with the secretary. She looked at me, smirked, and went into Miss Terri’s office.
“Stinkin’ bitch!” I muttered as I waited for the elevator doors to shut; the secretary looked up at me.
As I got out of the elevator, I saw that Mr. Jennings was waiting for me in the basement. He saw my downcast appearance. I heard Danny laughing across the room.
“Come with me,” said Timmy. He led me out of Doubleday’s and across the street to the outer waterfall lobby of 666 5 th Avenue. It