loyd.net

When Man needs to attach papers together Man needs paperclips

An old friend told me about going out of control and throwing a paperclip across the room. Just a crazy comment, but it brought back memories of the old days back in the 50's, when I was hanging around with Vic. He was trying to get by, doing a few radio spots. Back during the war he'd done those "Buy War Bonds" spots, but later during that commie scare madness he got blacklisted because he wore red shirts a lot. He was having a hard time trying to get back into the business. Anyway, he sometimes would have these episodes, where he'd pace around the apartment, muttering to himself about how back in the good old days Man would do this or Man would do that, it was always Man with a capital 'M'. Other days he'd sleep all day and not show up for the few jobs he had lined up. Meanwhile, I'd just drink lots of martinis. I finally had to get a job to pay for all those damn olives.

So I got a job as a secretary with an encyclopedia company. At least that's what they said they were doing, but I suspected it was a front for something else, and I was afraid to ask. Besides, I needed the money. Well, one day the boss came in, carrying a bunch of office supplies. Said he was doing an encyclopedia entry on "paper attaching devices" and wanted me to try out different types and give him a report on the relative merits and weaknesses of each type. Sounded pretty nutty to me, but, who am I to quibble with the guy who pays for the gin? So I typed up a bunch of bull about how the bigger paperclips held more than the smaller ones, how the clamps were better for thick stacks of paper, how certain kinds were more likely to tear the paper, how the wire ones could get caught in punched holes. Took me most of the day, but I handed him a report by 5. He took it, said thanks, put it in his briefcase, and left.

Next morning, he told me I had done excellent work on the paperclip paper, but there were a few points he wanted to discuss. He pulls up a chair, sits down next to my desk, takes the report out of his briefcase, and, get this, I can see that he's marked all over it. I had just figured that it was a time-waster, just to give me something to do, so I wouldn't ask any questions or nose around into what was really going on around there. But he seemed to take it awfully seriously. He asked me detailed questions about the various paperclips, how I had tested them, a bunch of stuff I don't remember in detail, but it definitely WAS detail. He took the whole morning to go over this silly report with me! Almost before I know it, he's apologizing for taking up my lunch hour--it was a quarter to 1. He offers to buy me lunch to make up for the imposition. Hell, I've never been one to turn down anything free, especially food. I told him if he'd buy me a martini all would be forgiven.

So we went to this diner around the corner. The kids kept the jukebox going with that newfangled rock'n'roll stuff, and they weren't serving drinks. But at least the food was pretty good. It was pretty odd sitting there having lunch with the boss. He asked where I was from and what I'd done before this job. I told him about my days as a child actress and that I'd been a singer, toured some with the USO during the war, but now I was with Vic, but he was having a hard time finding work so I was doing what I could. He asked about Vic, and finally said that he thought he might have a lead on a job for him. Said they were planning to make some movies to go along with the encyclopedia, and that they needed a good narrator. He told me to have Vic come by the office sometime and they'd see if he was their man. At the end of the day the boss told me I could keep the paperclips, so I took a couple of boxes home with me. I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to do with them.

That night I told Vic about the possible job, thinking he'd be happy for work. Instead he asked me about how the subject came up, and kept pressuring me until I told him about the paperclips, the lunch, and all. He accused me of having an affair with the boss, and that we wouldn't be trying to invent a job for him unless it was out of guilt or pity, or both. He said I must think he's a damn fool if I thought he'd buy that pathetic story about doing a report on paperclips--PAPERCLIPS! I went to my purse, and pulled out the boxes I'd brought home, and showed him, hoping it would convince him I was telling the truth. He just took the boxes and threw them across the room. Paperclips went everywhere. He then started pacing about the apartment, muttering some nonsense about when Man makes paperclips and Woman lies to Man. I fixed myself a martini, but we were out of olives. I didn't even notice when Vic left the apartment.

Next day I go back to the office, figuring I'd better keep up the good work, since it looked like I was on my own again. Maybe I ought to follow up on Vic's suggestion, and try to get the attention of the boss. After all, he was fairly attractive, if a little odd. Around 11 o'clock, to my surprize, Vic comes in. I didn't know what to say, but he spoke first, asked if he could talk about that job offer. So I buzzed the boss, he came out, and talked to Vic. Vic seemed enthusiastic, they hit it off, and he got the job. It sounded like the perfect thing for Vic, and the pay was good. My boss told Vic about how pleased he was with my work on the paperclip paper, and handed it to him. Vic just stood there, mouth gaping, looking at the report, then me. It was almost noon, so Vic asked my boss if he could take me to a long lunch to celebrate his new job. The boss said okay, so I got my purse and coat, and on the way out I said to Vic, "if you buy me a martini, all will be forgiven."

It took us at least a month to find all the paperclips around the apartment. It was another five or ten years before the encyclopedia movies were released as a TV show. By that time I had gotten a new job, my former boss got killed in an automobile accident, I'd switched from olives to pearl onions, and Vic and I were, well, no longer an item. But that's another story.

The Foremen of the Apocalypse Now Stories