I began getting dizzy spells. I could feel them coming. The case would begin to whirl. The spells lasted about a minute. I couldn’t understand it. Each letter was getting heavier and heavier. The clerks began to have that dead grey look. I began to slide off my stool. My legs would barely hold me up. The job was killing me.

I went to my doctor and told him about it. He took my blood pressure.

“No, no, your blood pressure is all right.”

Then he put the stethoscope to me and weighed me.

“I can find nothing wrong.”

Then he gave me a special blood test. He took blood from my arm three times at intervals, each time lapse longer than the last.

“Do you care to wait in the other room?”

“No, no, I’ll go out and walk around and come back in time.”

“All right but come back in time.”

I was on time for the second blood extraction. Then there was a longer wait for the 3rd one, 20 or 25 minutes. I walked out on the street. Nothing much was happening. I went into a drugstore and read a magazine. I put it down, looked at the clock and went outside. I saw this woman sitting at the bus stop. She was one of those rare ones. She was showing plenty of leg. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I crossed the street and stood about 20 yards away.

Then she got up. I had to follow her. That big ass beckoned me. I was hypnotized. She walked into a post office and I walked in behind her. She stood in a long line and I stood behind her. She got 2 postcards. I bought 12 airmail postcards and two dollars worth of stamps.

When I came out she was getting on the bus. I saw the last of that delicious leg and ass get on the bus and the bus carried her away.

The doctor was waiting.

“What happened? You’re 5 minutes late!”

“I don’t know. The clock must have been wrong.”

“THIS THING MUST BE EXACT!”

“Go ahead. Take the blood anyhow.”

He stuck the needle into me . . .

A couple of days later, the tests said there was nothing wrong with me. I didn’t know if it was the 5 minutes difference or what. But the dizzy spells got worse. I began to clock out after 4 hours work without filling out the proper forms.
I’d walk in around 11 p.m. and there would be Fay. Poor pregnant Fay.

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t take any more,” I’d say, “too sensitive . . .”