Why I Fired my Secretary
Back in the sixties, when I ran a business in Oxford Street, I had, on one occasion, to fire my secretary – here’s what happened, in my own words, at the time:
“Two weeks ago,” I said, “was my forty-fifth birthday and I wasn’t feeling too hot that morning anyway. I went in to breakfast knowing that my wife would be pleasant and say “Happy Birthday” and probably have a present for me. And she didn’t even say “Good morning” let alone say “Happy Birthday".
I said, “Well that’s wives for you. The children will remember”. The children came to breakfast and didn’t say a word. And when I started to the office I was feeling pretty low and despondent.
As I walked into my office, Sarah said: “Good morning, Andrew. Happy Birthday” and I felt a little better – someone had remembered.
I worked until noon. About noon she knocked on my door and said, “you know, it’s such a beautiful day outside and it is your birth, let’s go to lunch, just you and I”. I said, “By George, that’s the greatest thing I’ve heard all day. Let’s go”.
We went to lunch, we didn’t go where we normally go, we got a taxi to a very fashionable restaurant in Knightsbridge, you know, one of those small and more private places. We had two Martinis and enjoyed lunch tremendously.
On the way back to the office, she said, “You know, it’s such a beautiful day, we don’t need to go back to the office, do we?” I said, “No I guess not”.
She said, “Let’s go to my apartment and I’ll fix you another Martini”.
We went to her apartment, we enjoyed another Martini and smoked a cigarette and she said, “Andrew, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go into the bedroom and slip into something more comfortable” and I allowed her as I didn’t mind at all, I mean, I deserved a birthday treat!
She went into the bedroom and in about six minutes she came out of the bedroom carrying a big birthday cake, followed by my wife and children. All were singing “Happy Birthday,” and there I sat, with nothing on but my socks.
The picture of that damned woman is below...