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It was in Washington, D.C. I was SOOOO young -- and stupid. I had always wanted to be Perry Mason's secretary; that was my dream. In high school, I took a typing course and discovered I was a very fast typist. I got myself a job as a Clerk Typist for the F.C.C. and then as a Receptionist for a Commercial Art Agency on Wisconsin Avenue, then as a Secretary for American University, all the while taking a shorthand class at night. When I "graduated" from the shorthand class, I figured I knew it all. I was gonna go out there and find me that job as Della Street!

Like I said, it was in D.C. The attorney had his own practice. It was a beautiful office, with mahogany walls and beautiful, rich mahogany desks and lush red velvet chairs, with magnificent law books lining all the walls -- oh, I had ARRIVED!

Well, I got the job; the attorney hired me on the spot. In fact, he asked me if I would come into his office that weekend because he had a brief to get out which had to be filed with the court that following Monday.

I showed up at the scheduled time, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, dressed, of course, in my finest suit, with my matching purse and shoes, hat, and of course white gloves. Back in the early '60's in D.C. that's what decent ladies wore.

He gave me a pad and pen and escorted me into the conference room, where he had piles of files all around him, and we spent the entire morning in dictation. I was so good, oh yeah, I kept up with his every word, taking it all down in shorthand -- it filled my entire pad. I was so pleased with myself, boy I was on FIRE! When he was finished, he said, "Okay, I want this typed on legal-size pleading paper with three carbon copies, no errors."

"Yes, SIR!" And I marched out, over to the magnificent secretarial desk in the outer office, to "MY" old Royal manual typerwriter (remember, this was WAAAAY before electric typewriters!), and began fumbling through the desk looking for pleading paper.

What the hell was "pleading" paper, anyway? I had no idea. And "court and cause"? What was that? Three carbon copies, no errors? Okay, I think I can do that....

I sat at the typewriter, all poised and ready to go, pad open, with all my crazy little squiggles on the pages, and I just sat there, looking at that pad forever.

I could not read one single word.

The sweat began to drip down my face. OMG, come on Bev, you can DO this. What the hell did he SAY here? What ARE these squiggles? Court and cause? OMG!

Hours later -- HOURS later -- he came out of the conference room and said, "what is taking you so long?" I was still sitting there, in total horror, with a sheet of paper full of blank lines. By that time I had managed to figure out perhaps one word in each sentence.

The man was furious. He yanked the pleading paper out of my typewriter, copies and all, and told me to get out of his office. I was in tears all the way home on the bus, completely oblivious to anyone around me.

I went back to my old job in Reston, with my tail between my legs, and thankfully was given my old job back. My boss, the Director of Townhouse Sales, told me I was going to learn how to read that shorthand, and called me into the next sales meeting in the conference room. I begged and pleaded with him, telling him I couldn't do it, but he wouldn't listen to me. He said, "take the minutes, BM!" As the sales meeting went on, I rapidly took down everything in shorthand. Then he said, "read it back." I couldn't read it. All the salesmen sat there, waiting, while the tears ran down my face. My boss said, "READ IT!" I was mortified.

We repeated this horrible process for months -- MONTHS -- until one day, he said, "read it," and I DID! I DID! The salesmen clapped (obviously relieved to no longer have to go through that torture).

My boss hired me to help him with his book that he was writing on our off hours. I went to his apartment every night and he dictated chapter after chapter. On the weekends I was to use my own time away from office time to type it all up -- and I DID, not missing one single word.

He published that book and made a million off it. His name was Andrew Barr and the book was, "How To Make a Million in Real Estate."

So that's my interview story for you. Anyone reading this will no doubt say to themselves, "Self, what the hell is 'shorthand'?"

Bevvy

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<img src="http://home.comcast.net/~letsrow/smily3481.gif">Bevvy

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