ABSTRACT
W ELL then, there I was-out of a job. But this time it was not so bad. And indeed it never was bad for me in that way again. We had done some typing for a small advertising business in the same building. In five minutes I got a job with Samuel Jaros, its owner. He already had one stenographer in that small office. She was about fifty . . . slow and dull. She was also finicking and fussy, altogether very trying to a man who worked with great speed and who had to dictate booklets, letters, and advertisements. Mr. Jaros was evidently training me to take her place. By this time I had played enough with stenography to be able to take dictation. I could turn out about three times as much work in a day as she, and could write letters without dictation, which she could not learn to do. She was the most pitiable thing in the business world ... a woman without ability or friends, who had started to work at forty-another Mrs. Morrow, but with no guile. At the end of six weeks Mr. Jaros said to me one day,
Mrs. Baker's place, but if I let her go she'll never get another job. She'd be on my mind all the time. You're young and it won't matter to you. Take a week and find another job."
