Random reminder

Press, 2 July 1979, Page 25

Random reminder

NUMBERS GAME

She doesn’t have a good memory at the best of times, in spite ot holding down (successfully, we might add) a secretarial position in the suburbs. However, she does take pride in being able to memorise numbers and has frequently been heard to mention this fact, hoping to make light of other memory lapses.

Among other duties in a secretarial capacity, she frequently has to cut stencils' and run them off, often doing this as a favour tn the quieter moments.

Before a board meeting in the next-door office, she was handed some sheets in rought draft form and asked if she would be good enough to type a stencil and run off the required number of copies. Virtuously she typed, efficiently correcting both grammatical and spelling mistakes, (even spotting and correcting an error in the balance sheet therein) and when all was done, there were five stencils to be run off. She retired to the stationery room, counted her duplicating paper supplies, noted there were shortages, then ordered and paid for the last stocks in the nearby suburban book shop. Then the marathon task began; 500 copies of each sheet to be run ott by the time the meeting was over. She went like one possessed, efficiently inking, sort-’-g and stacking the 2000 sheets of paper and, having done this, tidied up the debris with a smug little smile. However, before finally doing away with the original instructions, she took one more look to make quite sure nothing had been overlooked.

The figure 150 caught her eye, and upon investigation she discovered to her absolute horror there should have been 150 copies of each of the five sheets, making a somewhat lesser total of 750 copies in all. How to disguise the evidence? What to do with 1750 surplus sheets of inky foolscap paper before the meeting was over? Should she confess her gross inefficiency and even worse, memory failure? And what about the money? Head down, bottom up, elbows jerking she whipped the surplus 350 compies off each little pile, emptied her shoppng basket of assorted groceries and literally stuffed the offending sheets the depths, draped her raincoat over the top and slunk out of the door before the board room door opened. Down the stairs she went, across the carpark under cover of darkness and on to her home where she stored the surplus paper in a carton in the back of her wardrobe.

We might add that she sat up into the early hours of the morning trying to work out just how much she owed her friend for whom she had done the “favour” and just how she could save face.

However, honesty prevailed, and first thing next morning amid roars of laughter, she confessed her crime, humt y admitting that perhaps her memory for numbers wasn’t quite as good as she had thought. The carton still reposes in the mu 'ry depths of her wardrobe; she cannot bring herself to look at the wretched thing.