The article “Strong Silent Types” (December issue) about secretaries and stenographers at the University was interesting. I was hired by the comparative literature department in 1975. My job title was “typist A,” which seemed to make little sense, since there never was a B, C, D, or any other letter indicating a higher level. Over the next 10 years I received several promotions through office assistant and secretary categories (there were four levels of each) until the department manager retired and her job was offered to me. I remained in that position until my retirement in 2005.
She would remind me that the root word of “secretary” was “secret,” and that much of the work we would be doing would be of a confidential nature. It was an important lesson. I was entrusted with much information that could not be shared with others (like faculty salaries and graduate students’ dossier letters). We couldn’t even read each other’s shorthand notes since, coming from England, she had learned the Pittman style whereas I had studied Gregg.
I remember hearing a story that summed up the importance of the work done by secretaries and stenographers. A man walked into an office one day and was met by the secretary at the front desk. Not content with speaking to a “lowly secretary,” he asked to see her manager. The secretary calmly responded with this question: “Do you want to speak to the one in charge, or the one who knows what’s going on?”
The article “Strong Silent Types” (December issue) about secretaries and stenographers at the University was interesting. I was hired by the comparative literature department in 1975. My job title was “typist A,” which seemed to make little sense, since there never was a B, C, D, or any other letter indicating a higher level. Over the next 10 years I received several promotions through office assistant and secretary categories (there were four levels of each) until the department manager retired and her job was offered to me. I remained in that position until my retirement in 2005.
She would remind me that the root word of “secretary” was “secret,” and that much of the work we would be doing would be of a confidential nature. It was an important lesson. I was entrusted with much information that could not be shared with others (like faculty salaries and graduate students’ dossier letters). We couldn’t even read each other’s shorthand notes since, coming from England, she had learned the Pittman style whereas I had studied Gregg.
I remember hearing a story that summed up the importance of the work done by secretaries and stenographers. A man walked into an office one day and was met by the secretary at the front desk. Not content with speaking to a “lowly secretary,” he asked to see her manager. The secretary calmly responded with this question: “Do you want to speak to the one in charge, or the one who knows what’s going on?”