She often wished there was more of this particular kind of ad-writing and circular-preparing to be done, but the books of the Corey Publishing Company sold by mail, year after year, varied little in type: These were a standard dictionary, a Home Library of Living Literature, a set of handbooks for Garden and Kitchen, and then there were the dressmaking books issued in connection with the pattern department: “How to Sew,” “How to Knit,” “How to Embroider.” In addition to the circularizing for these was that for subscriptions to the magazines, offered in conjunction with some particular premium.
When a special letter had to be prepared, Jeannette preferred to write it at home or come back to the office at night when she could be alone and undisturbed. There was continual interruption during the day; she rarely enjoyed five minutes of consecutive thought. One source of distraction and a great annoyance was having personally to initial every request for supplies, no matter how trifling. This was one of Mr. Kipps’ schemes. He had made it a rule that heads of departments must O.K. all such requisitions. A paper of pins, a pot of paste, a pad of paper could not be issued by the stock clerk to any of her girls without Jeannette’s initials being affixed to the request. All day long she was interrupted by: “C’n I have a pencil, Miss Sturgis?” “Please O.K. my slip for some paper, Miss Sturgis.” “’Xcuse me for interruptin’ you, Miss Sturgis, but I need some pen points.” Mr. Kipps’ idea was to prevent waste, but Jeannette frequently realized with exasperation that her time was of a great deal more value to the company than pencils, pens or paper, and there was a far greater waste in interrupting a line of constructive thinking than in trying to conserve the supplies of the stock room.
The telephone at her desk was continually at her ear: the composing room wanted the cut for Job 648; the engraver didn’t have the “Ben Day” she had specified; Mr. Sanders, Mr. Kipps’ assistant, wished to know if she could use a Five-and-a-quarter envelope just as well as a Number Six; she had requisitioned five thousand two-cent stamps and they had not been delivered; she needed a hundred thousand more “Dictionary” circulars, and would like Stamper & Bachellor to submit her some “m.f. laid, 24 by 36” in various tints; the stencil machine was out of order and she wanted to borrow one from the mailing department.
One thing followed another all day long.
“If we insert that return postal, we can’t mail this attack under two-cent postage.”
“Hello, Miss Sturgis,—say, Events can only give us a half page; will you prepare new copy for the smaller space? They’re waiting to go to press.”
“Miss Sturgis, we’re running short on ‘How to Knit.’”
“Miss Sturgis, we’ll have to get in some extra girls if you want those letters signed by hand.”
“Miss Sturgis, do you want these mimeographed or printed?”
“Miss Sturgis, Mr. Allister’d like to see you.”