I do not pretend to be an expert on the subject of being cuckolded. While my expertise is negligible or almost non-existent, I must say that when an example of cuckoldedness takes place and is confirmed by one of the participants, I am obliged to pay attention. The incident in question took place in two cities, starting in 1950, which is now 60 years ago, and I assume that all of the participants either are dead or are senile, which makes it appropriate for me to comment.
This is a telephone story. In 1950, the long-distance arm of AT&T elected to establish three area offices. They were in White Plains, New York; in Cincinnati; and, finally, in Kansas City, Missouri. At that moment, I was offered a job which was my first managerial job with AT&T. The job was in Kansas City. It had to do with buying furniture and moving it so that when the new participants in the area office showed up, they would have a place to work.
Before the move to Kansas City, I had worked in St. Louis. The division attorney for AT&T in St. Louis was a personable fellow whom we shall call Harry. While Harry held an important managerial job and I was the president of the union, we became quite friendly. There was one case when Harry told me that “You guys are going to win this one.” It involved a suit by the union against AT&T.
When the reorganization was completed, Harry had been moved to the Commercial Department and had jurisdiction over district offices in Kansas City, St. Louis, and Dallas.
The area manager of the Commercial Department was a gentleman whom we will call Edwin. Edwin came from New York and was much impressed with himself. He had spent a good bit of time complaining that services that were available in New York were not available in Kansas City. I totally agreed with that thought but expressed nothing. He was an immaculate dresser with his initials stitched on his French cuffs. Edwin was a big shot and he intended to play that role. While Edwin had very little interest in the district offices in St. Louis and Dallas, he was much consumed by offices he intended to establish in Los Angeles and San Francisco. This meant that Edwin would spend a good bit of time on the road away from his office in Kansas City.
When Edwin arrived on the scene in Kansas City, he called a meeting of his division managers which of course included my friend Harry. There was a dinner that evening. For reasons unknown to me, Edwin brought his wife to that dinner. When Edwin’s wife found my friend Harry, love began to bloom. Many years later, Harry told me that on that occasion she had made arrangements to call him in St. Louis whenever Edwin left town. Edwin was consumed with the vision of establishing district offices in Los Angeles and San Francisco; therefore, opportunity for him to be out of town was frequent.
Apparently, when Edwin took off for the West Coast, his wife in Kansas City had called my friend Harry in St. Louis and had made it clear to him that he would be welcome if he made a trip to Kansas City.
This may be a bizarre story to some. It was told to me by my friend Harry whom I trusted implicitly. Harry was married to a full-fledged dud of a wife and, at that point, all of the kindling was ready to be set afire.
I was not aware of the fact that Edwin’s wife had a lover in St. Louis. More than that, I had no idea whatsoever that the lover was none other than my friend Harry, the Division Commercial Manager. Edwin held that job in Kansas City for the better part of four years and whenever he left town, his wife would call my friend Harry in St. Louis. On those occasions, my friend Harry would go to Kansas City and sleep in Edwin’s bed. Because Edwin was Harry’s boss, the fact of the matter is that Harry was sleeping in his boss’s bed with Edwin’s wife.
I suspect that the preachers and other do-gooders might not approve of this arrangement. When Harry told me this tale some years later, I had no trouble believing it. Edwin was a pompous bastard and Harry, as I said, was married to a dud of a wife. If the truth were to be told, it would be that Edwin invited his wife to a dinner at the beginning where Harry would be present. So you see, in this version of events the problem was caused by none other than Edwin himself. I believe that I take a more realistic view of what happened here. Harry was not a skirt chaser. He was a respectable married man who had made a bad mistake in the selection of a wife many years ago. In the end, Edwin’s wife and Harry had a genuine affection for each other and, to their credit, they expressed that affection. Looking back on that situation that happened 60 years ago, we can only say that Edwin’s wife and Harry should have been married many years ago but that is not how life worked out. But I must say that if anybody deserved to be cuckolded, it was the pompous bastard Edwin.
A few years after the events that I have described, I was moved to New York City. Shortly, I found in one of the commercial offices, there was good old Edwin, still playing the pompous bastard. Edwin had a secretary with flaming red hair. The clothing that she wore had S E X written all over it. Edwin seemed to take great pleasure in having people remark upon the sexiness of his secretary. In point of fact, his secretary used her sexiness to attract a husband and was soon pregnant. But Edwin’s ego was satisfied by people commenting upon the sexiness of his secretary.
Time passed and I was away for a good many years, working for the New York company and in Washington. I finally returned to New York. At that point, I found that there was a woman working in the offices in my organization who had a familiar name. A woman I knew and trusted explained to me that the frumpy clerk in my new organization in New York was none other than Edwin’s old secretary. Grayness had taken hold of her hair and the sexy clothes were replaced by plain old work clothes. I had a bit of trouble digesting the fact that the former secretary was now a worker in one of my offices.
Somewhere along the line I learned that Edwin had died. I also assumed that by this time my friend Harry from St. Louis had departed this earth. And as far as I know, Edwin never discovered that he was cuckolded by his Division Commercial Manager in St. Louis.
This story came to me this morning while I was exercising. It seemed to me that my friend Harry sleeping in his boss’s bed with his boss’s wife was a come-uppance that was richly deserved. On top of that, I suspect that Edwin’s wife and Harry were quite fond of each other. I suppose that this only proves the age-old adage that love will find a way. If that way leads to the boss’s bedroom, so be it. More than anything, this sad story is not a morality tale. It simply demonstrates that pompous bastards like Edwin should not be so sure of themselves. And as for Edwin’s wife, this old codger simply says, “How to go! How to go!”
E. E. CARR
September 20, 2010
Essay 496
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Kevin’s commentary: An easy favorite. I like the idea that simply by waiting for insane amounts of time, you can basically tell any story you want. Though I suppose Pop could have written it much earlier and just not distributed it to the people involved or their friends. The issue there would be that — as the secretary tangent establishes — we live in a pretty small world, so there’s a chance it could have come back around. In today’s time, it is almost guaranteed to; the internet is a megaphone to the whole world and everyone likes to search for their names on Google.