“I was no clerk nor had any capacity to be one. The only place I ever found in my life to put a piece of paper as to find it again was either a side coat-pocket or the hands of a clerk or secretary more careful than myself.” U.S. Grant in his memoirs—which are far more interesting than anyone might guess.
When I was in business, there was one worker, a woman in the Rx department who was a technician, but who was known as “finder of lost articles.” She was a Seventh Day Adventist from Tegucigalpa, very dark, and ravishingly beautiful. Although she was sincerely religious she wore very tight jeans, the kind that take an assistant to help you get them on, and very tight sweaters or open blouses. She constantly attempted to get me to join or at least attend a service at her church. For a time, I wondered whether the Seventh Day Adventists accepted this kind of dress, but she was with me so many years that I forgot about the disconnect.
In any event, when something was lost or unable to be found, say an invoice from the previous year’s Chanel Christmas order, the bookkeeper would call Ana B. F. to come to the office and help her find it.
PRESTO! It would be found in no time. She had mysterious and primitive powers, but carried with her a quality of innocence. These peculiar powers are similar to those of the woman who lives with me.
.mek
