Allan had always been good with numbers. He could make sense of tangled ledgers the way a poet could untangle feelings, and that talent had caught the attention of *Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe*, a prestigious accounting firm known for its razor-sharp work and razor-thin sense of humor.

When the firm offered to pay his way through college in exchange for two years of secretarial work after graduation, Allan didn’t think twice. Free tuition and a guaranteed job? It was the kind of deal people dreamed of.

On his first day, Allan arrived early---A-line fit and flare dark plaid dress with a peter pan collar, long sleeves and a back zipper, sheer dark pantyhose and high heels, a mix of nerves and ambition fluttering in his stomach. The firm’s offices were sleek and polished, with deep green carpet and the faint scent of coffee and toner.

At the reception desk, he met two other young men who looked just as new and slightly out of place as he felt.

“Oliver,” said one, offering a warm smile.

“Quintin,” said the other, adjusting his skirt.

They compared stories and quickly realized they were all in the same boat---fresh accounting grads, bound to the firm for two years of clerical work before “moving up.”

Then came the uniforms.

Every secretary, male and female, wore the same professional ensemble: a pale blouse, tailored charcoal skirt, dark pantyhose and polished heels. When Allan slipped into his assigned outfit and stepped into the main office, he couldn’t help but feel oddly proud. He looked like he belonged.

The work was fast-paced---typing correspondence, organizing files, managing appointments for the senior partners---but it had a rhythm, a flow. Allan discovered he liked being the steady hand that kept things moving. Oliver was quick with jokes, keeping morale high, while Quintin developed an almost meditative focus on formatting and precision.

The partners were pleased. The trio’s desks were always immaculate; their schedules always ran on time. Soon, clients were complimenting how smoothly the office ran.

Months slipped by. Their “temporary” secretarial work became less of a chore and more of an identity. Allan found satisfaction in the little victories---the perfectly balanced schedule, the neatly collated reports, the quiet hum of efficiency. He’d never felt that kind of harmony staring at spreadsheets back in college.