No Talking
Kathleen attended a breakfast at the Brearley School the other day for a symposium of alumnae on Wall Street. They discussed ways of introducing high school girls to high finance. It was decided to set up a listserv on which to continue the discussion. Then something funny happened.
The Brearley School is a twelve-storey building that looks like a cross between the best office building in a small town and a women's prison overseen by Ida Lupino. There is one elevator, built for freight. There is an elevator operator. Doubtless out of consideration for this person, the school imposes a stiff ban - one of a relatively small number of rules - on talking in the elevator. You don't even think of opening your mouth.
Kathleen's breakfast took place at the top of the building. The ladies were still chatting when the elevator door opened; they fell silent immediately and boarded. A few floors below, they took on a group of students. A few floors below that, a teacher got on. The teacher recognized one of the alumnae and greeted her. "How are you?"
"Shshsh!" intoned the elevator operator. The teacher "came to her senses" at once, stage-whispering "I'm sorry!" Kathleen was amused by the students' palpable shock at seeing a teacher rebuked by the elevator operator. Just how long do you think it took this little anecdote to spread throughout the school?
