Hi, everyone. I’m taking a moment away from my all-important research into Disney’s Frozen to use my Kos account to recall a workplace story from a couple decades back. I’m one of those men who follows an artistic path and winds up working the oddest jobs, if I’m not careful. But this story is about my longtime partner.
There was a moment in the late ’90s when my partner felt the need to demonstrate to me the ease of getting temporary job placement. We had been colleagues on many projects, she had supported me largely since college, and she had just been hired for a promising executive role in a Wall Street communications firm.
She wanted me to get out and do something, on my own. We were in our thirties, so this made rational sense. She had a week before she was to start at the new job, so to prove her point to me, she signed up as a temp herself. She had never “worked secretarial” before in her life, so I think she was seeking an understanding of how office structure really worked in larger companies; four startups of our own, and of our friends’, had covered the bills but gave a very limited perspective.
She enjoyed herself very much temping as a temp.
After acquitting herself well in her first three days at various postings, the temp agency decided to bless her with its luxe assignment: Two days at the top of Trump Tower.
She had had a friend from school who had worked for Mr. Trump, and who told her it was a really positive experience, so she was looking forward to seeing how his machine worked. She was standing in for an absent typist. Trump himself was supposedly there in his private office, around a corner or two, but she never saw him enter the room in which she worked. The office seemed well run, and everyone she did meet was courteous.
On the second day, the genteel lady who managed the secretarial pool spoke with her. She asked her if she had any other job leads, and if she would consider becoming a permanent Trump secretary.
My partner tells me that there were several pairs of eyes directed up at them during this conversation, and that the other women might have been consulted upon it earlier. It was a rare offer, and not to be dismissed lightly.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I have another job waiting for me. I’m only working temps this week, as a favor to a friend.”
“What kind of job?”
“Executive, in the financial community.”
“You mean, like a stockbroker?”
“Not quite. A writer on finance.”
“Ah, you mean like a broker’s secretary.”
“No, my understanding is that it will be an executive position.”
She stepped back a bit. “Oh, honey, no! You can’t let yourself believe that. They’re kidding you. They mean you're going to be a broker’s secretary. There’s no way a girl like you could be hired for something on an executive level.”
My partner was polite. “My understanding is that it’s an executive position.”
After several rounds of being firm with the kindly lady, my partner went back to her post; and put in some good overtime.
After that week, she did well in her new executive position. She was named vice president very quickly, not surprising considering her prior chops, and she was ultimately offered a partnership before she left on the best terms a few years later.
The takeaway, of course, is that the Trump people sought to recruit her excellence by insisting she had no better options; that such opportunities couldn’t possibly exist for someone like her. Whether their corporate culture actually made them believe that, or they were merely gaslighting her, is moot.
She didn't need Donald Trump’s deal.