TIPPY. Wait a minute, Kate. He doesn't know yet what the job is.
KATE. He doesn't act as if he wanted to know.
TIPPY. Don't get sensitive.--And I haven't played my game out.
KATE. All right. Go on.
TIPPY. [_Thinks a moment, then brilliantly._] Will he wear a
uniform?
KATE. Yes.--You guessed it. [TED _grows dismayed._] The job is
elevator operator in the Graybar Building. It's a cinch. You don't
even have to stop the car. You just push buttons.
TIPPY. Automatic. All but the phonograph. And you're it.
TED. In uniform!
KATE. [_Impatiently._] Well, what of it?
TED. And push buttons.... Floor, please. Two please. Five please.
Right please. [_Laughs harshly._]
KATE. Oh, so it isn't good enough for you!
TED. Fifteen please. Twenty-six please.
KATE. Well, what do you want? Vice-president in a bank? Wake up!
This isn't 1929. This is 1935. You take what you get and are
grateful.
TED. Like a bellboy!--
KATE. It's a job. You said you wanted a job.
TED. Oh God, Kate ...
KATE. It pays more than I got for years. And I supported myself on
it and you, too.
TED. Listen, Kate ... [_Has some difficulty going on._] If it were
an old freight elevator in a warehouse, and I could wear overalls,
and pull on a rope that blistered my hands ...
KATE. It's the uniform that stalls you, is it?--Now I see why they
make soldiers wear them.
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