I began at 6:18 p.m. and Dave Janko did not begin until 10:36 p.m., so it could have been worse. Having a 10:06 thirty minute lunch, I was usually back by the time he got in. In he’d come, looking for a stool next to mine. Janko, besides playing at the great mind also played at the great lover. According to him, he was trapped in hallways by beautiful young women, followed down the streets by them. They wouldn’t let him rest, poor fellow. But I never saw him speak to a women down at work, nor did they to him.

In he’d come: “HEY, HANK! MAN, I REALLY CAUGHT A HEAD JOB TODAY!”

He didn’t speak, he screamed. He screamed all night.

“JESUS CHRIST, SHE REALLY ATE ME UP! AND YOUNG TOO! BUT SHE WAS REALLY A PRO!”

I lit a cigarette.
Then I had to hear all about how he met her—
“IHADTOGOOUTFORALOAFOFBREAD, SEE?”

Then—down to the last detail—what she said, what he said, what they did, etc.

At that time, a law was passed requiring the post office to pay substitute clerks time and one half. So the post office shifted the overtime to the regular clerks.

Eight or ten minutes before my regular quitting time of 2:48 a.m. the intercom would come on:

“Your attention, please! All regular clerks who reported at 6:18 p.m., are required to work one hour overtime!”

Janko would smile, lean forward and pour more of his poison into me.

Then, 8 minutes before my 9th hour was up, the intercom would come on again.

“Your attention, please! All regular clerks who reported at 6:18 p.m., are required to work two hours overtime!”

Then 8 minutes before my 10th hour:

“Your attention, please! All regular clerks who reported at 6:18 p.m., are required to work 3 hours overtime!”

Meanwhile Janko never stopped.

“I WAS SITTING IN THIS DRUGSTORE, YOU SEE. TWO CLASS BROADS CAME IN. ONE OF THEM SAT ON EACH SIDE OF ME . . .”

The boy was murdering me but I couldn’t find any way out. I remembered all the other jobs I had worked at. I had drawn the nut each time. They liked me.

Then Janko put his novel on me. He couldn’t type and had the thing typed up by a professional. It was enclosed in a fancy black leather notebook. The title was very romantic. “LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT IT,” he said.

“Yeh,” I said.