Honest Doubt Read Online Free PDF Page B

as though she thought it might yield an aroma. “Everything is contacts; I’ve learned that. But once you’re a secretary, that’s all people want you for. I get offered jobs as a secretary, but never as anything that would be a real step-up.”
    â€œPerhaps they would pay more?”
    â€œThey would. But working for the college, I get the same pension and health benefits as the faculty, and I can take two courses a year free. I’ve been taking one every semester, working toward my degree. These things are worth more than money.”
    â€œVery sensible,” I said. “But I have heard that the academic world is not easy on its administrators, particularly those in departments. That may just be gossip or jealousy from those of us struggling in the big outside world.” I had made my move; what she answered would determine the success of the evening. I’ve often had to return for another try after a conversation had dried up; it never pays to keep pushing immediately after you’re blocked.
    â€œI’ve thought of that,” she said, polishing off her sherry with what I hoped was a sign of determination to spill her guts. I wasn’t trapping her, after all. She wasn’t the object of my queries; she was a means to an end, and I always try to reward my means somehow, if they come through, in this case by a good dinner. I smiled encouragingly as our food came.
    She began on her appetizer. “Very good,” she said. “You’re right about the stresses. If you’re at all a sympathetic person, someone who tries to be helpful, you get to hear from everyone about everyone else. Not that they have the least use for your opinion, not most of them, but they have to complain to someone who knows the cast of characters; at least, that’s how I figure it. There’s so much bad feeling.”
    â€œWhat is it that they get so worked up about?”
    â€œLots of minor things: they didn’t get the classroom or the times they wanted. I do my best, but the final decision is made by the central administration. After all, they have more than one department to consider, and only a certain number of rooms and hours. But that’s the least of it. They all differ on what should be taught and on which students should get fellowships and honors, on who should read whose senior thesis. That sort of thing. And then there’s backbiting, nasty remarks, mean ones sometimes, particularly from the men about the women faculty. We hired one young woman, and I heard the men in the office—they seem to think I and the other women on the staff are deaf—call her a . . . well, a ‘fuck bunny.’ I walked out from my space and let them know I’d heard them; they didn’t say that again. I remember when no one said a word like that, not in a college anyway.”
    I nodded my agreement, wondering what Dawn’s experience in matters of crude sexual language had been. She was in her fifties; I’d looked up her statistics along with those of the rest of the faculty and staff—no big deal. Anyone who knows how to use a computer can do that. Earlier, one had to get access to a file cabinet; not much difference. She was a pretty woman, naturally so; her hair was dyed, but worn conservatively in what I call a bun but others call something fancier. Clearly efficient, she escaped, because of her age, the flirtatious attempts of many male professors. I’d learned also that the students had great affection for her—actually, Octavia had learned that. She’s very good at gathering casual information for me; I may have to make her a partner one of these days, though my impression is that she prefers to pick up information on her own account, and offer it as a surprise, rather than being sent out officially to snoop. Getting printed information is, in Octavia’s eyes, a matter requiring less talent and less challenging.
    Dawn had ordered a