I felt stunned when a second typing test administered by Judy, a secretary in my father’s medical office, yielded a much lower rate of words per minute. How could that be?

It turned out that his office manager, perhaps in an attempt to boost my ego, had cheated when she administered her test to me. Judy, in contrast, gave it to me straight.

That was just part of the falseness of working in Dad’s office. Later on I learned that he had paid my wages. The office couldn’t justify paying minimum wage–if there was such a thing back then–to an unskilled file clerk-typist. Plus, if they hired me, they’d have to hire the other docs’ kids.

I’d had a bit of experience before I went to Dad’s office. I’d helped my mother file in Dad’s home office. To tell the truth, I don’t think I was a great filer. I probably got some documents misplaced for eternity.

 

I wrote this post in response to a prompt at Sunday Scribblings.