The 80s receptionist
The receptionist's boyfriend used to work at the Whitney Museum, packing or hanging. One day she received a call from the biggest dealer. Would she consider a position at the gallery? Yeah! she said, as she was only working as a secretary or an assistant manager or something, somewhere.

Eventually there were two phone interviews with the dealer, really rigorous, each lasting an hour. Every detail of the receptionist's life was gone over. It turned out the dealer even had the receptionist's birth chart done. (Later, after she left the gallery, she learned the dealer asked someone applying for the same position what her birth date was, and when the dealer heard it was such and such a date in 1966, say, she said, That's good, because I've had a lot of trouble from people born in 1965.)

Then there was an interview in person and at last it seemed the job was in the bag. But the receptionist still didn't know what the job was. When she asked what position the dealer was interviewing her for and the dealer said receptionist, she laughed. But then she started work anyway. She arrived at the biggest gallery absolutely on the dot of opening time on the first day. The dealer asked if she'd had trouble finding the place. Because obviously you had to get there long before the dot.

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