Button stories in Two Acts

March 31, 2020 – Button stories in Two Acts

         My Mom had two favorite stories that she told and retold often over the years.

Act One:

         One beloved story was her sewing a button on Judge Gould’s robe before he went to court.  She thought that fell under “special duty” as a legal secretary for Judge Gould.  Judge Gould was most appreciative and admired her handiwork.

         The week before Mom died, she must have told me that story a dozen times, and I listened to it again and again.  It never got old for me, and I’d say “Yes, Mom,” knowing it was one of several pinnacle moments in her chosen secretarial profession.

Act Two:

         Due to this coronavirus pandemic, I am reminded of another one of her favorite stories. 

         At the time, my mom worked at Amory Chemical & Plastics in Clinton, Massachusetts, as a correspondence secretary and receptionist handling incoming calls.

         It was flu season and the last thing one Friday afternoon at quitting time, Mom liberally sprayed aerosol disinfectant on all the mouthpieces and push buttons on all the telephones in the entire office.

         Mom had gotten this idea from watching a national advertising campaign on TV and felt the disinfectant spray could work its magic on all the telephones and kill any germs or virus by Monday morning.

         Monday morning came and as usual the telephones were ringing as she arrived.  To her dismay, she discovered she couldn’t answer any phones as all the buttons had melted; four incoming ringing lines couldn’t be answered.

          A father and son-in-law team managed the company.  The eldest boss-man upon arrival discovered the crisis and dashed off to the nearest coffee shop to report the phone trouble to the telephone company explaining what had transpired and to bring phones, lots of phones.

         Mom directed the repair man to each office and watched him replace each phone in turn, expecting to be fired any moment.

         Once the repair man finished his repairs, he spoke briefly with the eldest boss man and left.

         Later in the day, Mom braced herself as the elder boss man called her into his office.

         Mom, expecting a stern calling down, was surprised the boss man chuckled and smiled at her, saying,

         “The telephone repair man has been replacing phones all over town in the last few weeks because of that darn TV ad showing someone spraying telephones. Barbara, you had a good idea, about killing off the germs . . .”

         “But, I shouldn’t do it again,” she asked hoping she still had a job.

         The elder continued, “The repair man told me his company must have gotten a batch of cheaply manufactured phones, as the buttons should not have melted.  He assured me our new phones will hold up to disinfectant spray, so Barbara, you can Spray Away.”

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         Because of Mom’s story, I’ve always hesitated to “Spray Away.” I don’t use disinfectant spray on my phones. I opt for wiping them carefully with full strength hydrogen peroxide or alcohol instead. 

         I don’t want “melted buttons.”