RANSVESTIA

nameless stenographers are assigned to nameless slobs like myself who don't rate a full-time secretary or even an office for that matter. But Betty Clapper knew she was better than the other fish in the pool and she longed to be a private secretary up in those cloud-bound chambers on the fifty-eighth.

Betty had taken what I had foolishly assumed to be an honest in- terest in my little bids for an account executive's position. These bids took the form of my designing campaigns., on my own time, for some of the agency's clients. Campaigns no one of any importance ever saw because no one on fifty-eight ever actually spoke to anyone working below the forty-seventh. But Betty, dear Betty, came to my assistance by offering to take one of my practice campaigns with her on one of her occasional calls to the fifty-eighth. Once there she would leave it on a strategic desk where the right eyes could see it. I am nauseated as I remember the base gratitude I expressed when she offered to help me up the ladder of success in this fashion.

I gave her my proposed campaign for one of the agency's less im- portant clients figuring that they'd be more willing to take a chance on a minor account. Betty took it and told me not to worry as she turned and walked toward the elevators.

A few days later the floor was charged by the news that one of the underlings had been promoted to account executive. Some mere worker on some floor even lower than ours had submitted an ex- perimental campaign to the fifty-eighth floor and "snap" he was in. I took this to be a good sign for ine. I reasoned, if one guy can do it, why can't I? Then I found out the details of this unknown co-worker's test campaign. It was mine. The overnight success was due to a campaign identical to mine.

I began a frantic search for helpful Betty, but was told by one of the girls in the secretarial pool that Betty didn't splash around down there anymore. With a sigh of envy the girl told me that Betty had been lucky enough to be chosen by the newly-installed account executive to be his private secretary. Lucky indeed. I may be a jerk, but I'm not stupid. It didn't take too much time to figure out just what had happen- ed. Betty had seen the potential in my modest efforts and had decided to feather her own nest by offering the campaign to some slob to submit as his own on the promise that if he made it good, she'd get a free ride as his choice for private secretary.