The New York Stories by John O'Hara

Author:John O'Hara
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Classics
ISBN: 9780698136250
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

THE NOTHING MACHINE

Her dress and the modified beehive coiffure deceived no one about her age, and were not meant to. It was a comparatively simple matter to fix the important dates of her career and of her life: her class in college, so many years as a copywriter and copy chief, so many years with one agency as account executive, so many years as vice-president of one firm and then another. She did not claim to be forty or forty-five, but her record spoke for itself and her chic proclaimed her determination to quit only when she was ready and not one minute before. The only thing was—more and more she liked to have Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday evenings to herself, to whip up her own dinner, to read a while, to work if she felt like it, to watch what the competitive accounts were doing on television, to take a warm bath in a tub of scented water and go to bed at a time of her own choosing. All she had she had worked for, fought for, fought dirty for when she’d had to. She had gone through those years when they said terrible things about her, and she had known they were saying them; but now that was past, and she was up there where they had to respect her—or be respectful to her—and they gave her plaques now, and wanted her name on committees. “Oh, Judy’s tough all right,” they said. “But she had to be, to get where she did in this rat-race. There aren’t many men around that started the same time she did.”

Judith Huffacker waved a pink-gloved hand at the chairman of the board. He raised his hat and shook it in farewell, and then was hurried along by the passengers behind him. That was that, and she turned to the man at her side. “Where can I take you?”

“Well, I was going to suggest I take you to dinner. It’s a little late, but some place like the Oak Room. How would that suit you?”

“No. No thanks. I’ve had a long day, but I’ll drop you anywhere you say.”

“Oh, come on. Have dinner with me. I don’t want to go back to Detroit and admit I couldn’t talk the famous Judith Huffacker into a dinner.”

“Admit it to whom?”

“Any of the guys you know and I know.”

“Like who, for instance?”

“Well—Jim Noble. Ed Furthman. Stanley Kitzmiller. You want me to name some more?”

“Production men. Don’t you know any advertising men?”

“Sure, but I thought you’d be more interested in your impression on production men. You’re aces with them.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“The ad men, of course, but that goes without saying.”

“Not always, you may be sure. All right, let’s go to the Oak Room.”

When they were under way he said, “This your car?”

“Yes, are you impressed?”

“Naturally. I’m always impressed when people spend their own money when they don’t have to. You could have had the use of one of our cars, couldn’t you? Don’t you rate that executive-car deal? I’m sure you do.

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