Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 June 1936 — Page 44
DAILY SHORT STORY |
References, Please By Daphne Alloway McVic
“Such a trial,” he asked politely, ising—not to get fresh with you?”
ELLA looked wearily down at the scuffed toes of her ce trim kid pumps. The last nickel in " her purse would have to go a a shine. A cup of coffee would do more to buck her up, but nobody would hire a girl with scuffed shoes. ; While the bootblack whisked his rag in tune with the music from & blaring radio, Della considered. She had exhausted the ads for stenographers in the newspapers. Everywhere, they always asked for the same thing—her references. When she offered the old ones, from the training school, they would raise their eyebrows and ask where she had been employed since? When she answered, they asked for her references from that place. She could only answer, “Indeed, I haven't any,” like poor Simple simon, and their cool stares made her feel mueh as that famous zany must have felt’ when he set off pieless.
” ” “ HEN, suddenly, she found herself face to face with an old friend—Ann, a classmate at the training school. “What are you doing now, Della?” Ann inquired with interest, as they fell into step together. “I'm not doing anything,” Della returned, ruefully pushing a stray copper curl under her green straw hat. “You don't know of anybody
simply craving red-headed stenogra- |
phers, do you?” “Why yes, as it happens, I do . know of a job. It’s a grand place, too. Real estate company—a good one. Top floor of the Bagley Building. Here, I'll write the address—a friend of mine told me about it this morning.” When Ann had departed, Della stood still for a long moment. Then, suddenly, she laughed aloud. Twinkling bravely, two newly shined black pumps trudged down the street and around the corner to the Bagley Building.
”n ” » ELLA sat, gloved hands folded meekly, in the outer office waiting to see Mr. Garvice, who was the man she must interview. When the door of his office swung open, she rose, glanced desperptely for a moment into her compact mirror, then tymed and entered: Mr, Garvice, a good-looking young” man, was seated at a rolltop desk. His blue eyes widened with interest when he saw the visitor, then became expressionless. “You wanted to see me, Miss——" “Rossiter. Della Rossiter: I hear you have a vacancy for a stenographer.” “I see.” He tapped the desk with his fingers. “You've had experience, Miss Rossiter?” “Oh, yes. “Many positions?”
» » »° OT a great many.” She swallowed. “I stayed for quite a long, time—in one position.”
“would, I assume, involve my prom-
“1 see. Well, your references from that place should be adequate. Della gulped. “I am sorry,” she said. fram my last place. Mr. Garvice leaned back in his chair, regarding a long, narrow tan shoe thoughtfully. “That’s a little unusual, Miss Rossiter.” Della’s voice shook. “Yes, I know. But I'm very efficient, Mr. Garvis. I've had experience, in exactly this type of work. I'd be willing to take by tril position.”
” ad ” E hummed. vaguely. “Could you, perhaps, tell me why you left your last position?” “Yes.” It was a very firm, uncompromising little monosyllable. “You would?” Mr. Garvice seemed surprised. “Yes. My employer—my employer—I think the customary expres sion is, ‘got fresh with me'.” “I—see.” Mr.. Garvice's voice trailed. “And you objected?” “Yes. I resigned—and he did not give me any references.” “Did you ask him to? Sometimes, in a case like that—" Della flushed. “I left rather suddenly. I didn’t take time to ask anything.” “Nor to listen to anything?”
# 8 8 0. You see—I understood that he was engaged.’ “You thought—" Mr. Garvice straightened. “Wasn't he?”
“No. One of the girls had told me he was, and pointed out the fiance. But later, I saw the announcement of her engagement to somebody else. However—that doesn’t provide me with any references. If you'd just give me a trial, Mr. Garvice—" “Such a trial,” he asked politely, “would, I assume, involve my promising—not to get fresh with you?”
ELLA’S next words were muffied against a tweed shoulder. “Oh, Jack,” she moaned, “I've been so miserable! Nobody would hire me without references—and I had been so nasty to you that I was. determined not to come back until I could tell you I had’a job. But when I heard that you hadn't filled my place, I couldn't resist—I
understood—" “Priceless little idiot,” Jack Garvice murmured, his voice blurred by a cloud of auburn curls. “About that trial job——" “Yes 9” %
“Would you consider making it a trial job in a home instead of an office?” Before he blotted out the reply, in a very effective way, he adgled, “And no references required.” THE END (Copyright, 1938, by United Feature Syndicate, Inc.) (The characters in this story are fictious)
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