Article March 5, 2001 Issue

Get prayer-tough

Lessons learned in the composing room of a newspaper

Jewel Becker Simmons

As they walked into the room, I watched with curiosity. She was an attractive brunette wearing a short skirt. He was maybe 15 years younger—handsome, clean cut, and wearing a suit and tie. After he pulled out her chair, she remained standing and spoke to him. He fumbled in his front shirt pocket and handed her a cigarette. She tossed her glossy hair to the side and waited for him to light it for her. Finally she sat down. I could see a trace of humiliation in his expression.

I looked back down at my paper plate. I was on my break in the cafeteria at the newspaper where I worked. She was the top advertising executive, and he was her assistant, probably just getting started in the business. I was a compositor working the night shift.

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