That July morning in 1984 when I reported for my first day of work at 375 Park Avenue - The Seagram Building - a transvestite perched on the retaining wall at 51st Street in the sweltering heat, a slight African-American guy in red hot pants, black fishnets and red stilettos. I focused on the task at hand - representing I knew fine wines as I’d claimed in my job interviews, though this was not in the strictest sense (or any sense) true. With the HR paperwork signed, I was escorted to my office which had my name on the door. On the desk was a leather box containing 500 business cards also emblazoned with my name and the Seagram emblem in rich, gold leaf. In those years, every employee of every rank flew first class and even bean counters sat at that storied address, some of the most expensive commercial real estate then known to man. There was a reason for all this excess and it tells a tale.
© 2024 John Oliver
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