Dear Mrs. Bluth,
I am in such a black place, I have begun to think seriously about the peace and end of my misery. The weight of getting through each day becomes heavier and harder to bear and I have become a shell of my former self. For me, there are no more options, no answers that will put my world back to the way it was seven months ago. I am a fallen woman, a disgrace to my family, with no hope of ever having a normal life, but if any bit of redemption can be found by the telling of what happened to me, then let this letter be a warning and a lesson to any young, naive girl entering the business world.
My father walked out when I was a child and my mother moved us to a nice Jewish community where no once knew us. She told people that she was a widow so that my two older brothers and I would not suffer the stigma attached to divorce. My mother worked long hours in a factory and tried her best to provide for us, but very often, we had to do without the things that many of our classmates and friends had. No camps in the summer, no nice clothes (we shopped at the local goodwill store) and our home reflected our frugal lifestyle, which inhibited us from bringing friends home. It also discouraged close friendships; my brothers and I were loners. I graduated at the head of the class when I was eighteen and beneath my demure yearbook picture it read: “…. most likely to succeed.”
While my older brothers left home, one to live in Israel and the other to college out of state, I felt it was up to me to try to help my mother with the household expenses, now that she was suffering from assorted ailments. So, I applied for secretarial work at a number of legal firms. Because of my short-hand accuracy and speed in typing I got a job almost immediately at a high-ranking legal firm. Needless to say, I was thrilled at my good fortune; I had gotten a great position with a wonderful benefits package and enviable salary, without any previous experience. I actually began to believe that I was going to be that predicted success. My boss was a very refined gentleman, old enough to be my father, who welcomed me into the office and introduced me around to the other lawyers, since all of them would be using my skills. Those were the happiest days of my life, I loved my job and my mother was thrilled to be able to work less because my salary was more than sufficient to cover our bills.
About six months into my job, my boss asked me if I would stay later to help finish typing some briefs for a case. I thought little of it, as many secretaries did this. I called my mom to let her know I’d be working later that day so she wouldn’t worry and told her not to wait up for me if she felt tired and went to bed early. I was so thrilled to have this job, I felt so grown up and full of myself that nothing else crossed my mind. Here I was, so young and fresh out of high school, working in a prestigious office for important lawyers, I felt so secure in who I was that I didn’t think to look out for myself. After all, these were respectable people, and I aspired to be just like them.
At six in the evening, the office was all but empty except for the light in my boss’s office, and as I sat typing in my cubicle, nothing seemed amiss. The time passed and before I knew it, it was well past eight o’clock and I was done. I gathered up the documents and brought them into my boss’s office. To my surprise, I found him sitting at his desk drinking something alcoholic. He asked me to close the door and sit down for a few minutes. Still not suspecting anything untoward but feeling a bit uneasy, I closed the door, set the papers on his desk and was about to sit down when he sprang forward. He grabbed my hand and said he had been watching me all these months and wanted to discuss my becoming his private secretary. With my mind racing, I tried to break his grip on my arm, saying I was flattered but was very happy where I was.
