Bring me file 227B
Rikkard Ambrose.
Bring me file 227B? Just ‘Bring me file 227B’? That was all? No please, no thank you. God, why did he even feel the need to sign it? No one else I know would write a message that cold, curt and discourteous. Well, maybe my uncle. But discourtesy from family didn’t count.
And… ‘Mr Linton’? He couldn’t even acknowledge the fact that I was a female when there was nobody else around? I had been afraid he was a chauvinist. I had been wrong. He was the king of chauvinists.
But he was also the man who wrote my pay cheques. So I swallowed the adjectives I would have liked to throw at him and instead demanded of the closed door: ‘Why are we communicating via tiny paper rolls? And what is file 227B?’
No answer - though he must have heard me through the door. The man didn’t say a single word. But shortly after, a plink noise came from behind me, and I turned around only to see another missive from my master shooting out of the hole in the wall.
Stomping over to the desk, I grabbed it and read:
Mr Linton,
We are communicating via tiny paper rolls because this is the most efficient system of communication. And you should be able to find a file on your own if you want to keep your position.
Rikkard Ambrose
Most efficient form of communication my foot! The cash-carrying bit-faker[15] just didn’t want to talk to me and be reminded that he suffered from the shame of having a girl as his secretary! Well, two could play at that game.
I started to rummage through my desk, opening and shutting drawers at a prodigious rate. Finally, I found what I was looking for: in the bottom drawer was a bowl full of metal cylinders and another one full of little bits of paper. I took both out, grabbed the fountain pen that was lying on the desk and began to scribble.
Dear Mr Ambrose,
May I ask with all due politeness what kind of devilish invention this is you are forcing me to use?
Thoughtfully, I tapped my lower lip with the pen. Then I closed the message with:
I remain
Sincerely Yours
Miss Lilly Linton
Yes! Show him that a proper girl can be courteous even if a stinking rich man cannot!
Very pleased with myself I put the cylinder into the hole in the wall. It didn’t move. Frowning, I examined the hole more closely - and then discovered a little lever right beside it. Well, it couldn’t hurt to try. Probably.
Cautiously, my fingers curled around the lever. Hoping fervently it wouldn’t make the building explode or something like that, I pulled. There was a sucking noise, and the little metal container vanished into the hole. Phew! I hated mechanical stuff. You never knew what would happen when you pushed a button.
For a minute or two, I sat at my desk, twiddling my thumbs. But I didn’t have to wait long for a reply. With another plink, the metal missive-container shot out of the hole and landed on my desk. I grabbed it eagerly and unrolled the message. Ha! At least this time he would have to be more courteous. He would have to accept me as a girl. Wouldn’t he?
I read:
Mr Linton,
This ‘devilish invention’ as you deem it is the latest technical innovation for high-speed communication, called 'pneumatic tubes'. It allows me to communicate with all my employees in the entire building without leaving my office. This system has served me admirably ever since its installation. I would be required to change my modus operandi in order to communicate with you vocally. That will not happen. I do not change a working system.
Bring me file 227B.
And incidentally, I do not want you as mine, sincerely or otherwise.
Rikkard Ambrose
My eyes went wide as I read the last line before his name. The abominable, villainous… That had just been a courteous closing line! Nothing more! I hadn’t meant that… well, I hadn’t meant anything like the thing he obviously meant!
Seething with rage, I grabbed another piece of paper and scribbled:
Dear Mr Ambrose
I am a female, in case you still have not noticed.
How am I to give you file whateveritscalled if you do not open your bloody door?
Yours infuriatedly
Miss Lilly Linton
The reply came soon:
Mr Linton,
You are no female while you are in my employ. As, by the way, you have amply proven by your language.
Slide the file under the door.
Rikkard Ambrose
What? Now he complained about me not expressing myself in a ladylike manner, after he had forced me to come to work dressed up in a pair of striped trousers? I itched to send back another snarky remark.
But…
But…
But this man was my master now. He was the one who would hopefully one day sign my first pay cheque. He was my ticket to freedom. My only chance. Blast him!
I hurried over to the shelves that held the boxes. Two minutes of searching were enough for me to discover that whatever system my predecessor had used to sort his files, it most certainly was not an alphabetical one. Twenty minutes of searching went by, and I still hadn’t discovered what I was looking for. As I was taking an extraordinarily large and heavy box from one of the upper shelves, I heard a familiar plink from my desk. Balancing the monument of a file container on my shoulder I tottered over to my desk, picked up the metal cylinder with one hand, opened it with my teeth and spat the removed half into the bowl on my desk.