Working in the cable building for David M’s Consulting for Architects (CFA) wasn’t a hard job, just a little frustrating. This was in the pre-internet era, when we did all our work with typewriters, primitive word processors, telephones and fax machines. Sure, it was still effective and work got done and all, but for instance if you needed to get in touch with the boss and he was out of the office, you had no recourse but to say
“Let me take a message and I’ll have him get back to ya.”
There was a lot of that message taking on the duplicate forms back at CFA. DM was a cool young dude about town who went out to the best restaurants and wined and dined and did other stuff that I’ll only allude to ‘cause I don’t know what’s permissible to say and I don’t really want to bring anybody down. Back then, a lot of partying was in the air, especially for the yuppie class -- like DM -- who had the bucks.
I had access to his big business checkbook and had to keep track of the checks -- though I never balanced the checkbook per se because -- many of the stubs for the checks were blank. I had no idea of the money DM was taking out for his own pleasure pursuits -- or anything else. Sometimes the hired guns or architects would call and ask about payments. I wanted to help, but had to get the boss to go over the billings, what was in the bank account, and then figure out the payments and sign the checks.
I have never wanted to have the responsibility of signing checks for anybody but me.
Anyway, when DM did breeze into the office, he seemed to have a headache and wasn’t very inspired to work on the books and all when I was around. He’d book architects and be on the phone, drumming up more business, but I had no idea when the other administrative stuff got done.
He did pay me every week, though, and I gratefully accepted -- for as long as it lasted.