In the late 1980s, way before the Me Too movement, there lived a nice, but somewhat chauvinistic CEO named James Alexander LaPierre. James ran Worthington Mutual, an insurance agency that employed over fifty people, including a gaggle of secretaries, very sexy secretaries, at least according to Mr. LaPierre. The women—or girls, he liked to call them—were conventionally pretty: long legs, big hair, photogenic faces. But there was another asset that he insisted they possess in order to get hired; they needed to be brainy as well. The proverbial dumb blond need not apply, no matter how long her legs or how big her hair. Brainy women, high IQ women, turned James on as much, if not more, than their physical assets.
Very few of these gals held college degrees for one reason or another, and most of them came from blue collar, working class families. The barometer James used to test their smarts was the Wonderlic Personnel Test, a twelve-minute, fifty question IQ test that had been used by companies to evaluate their would-be employees for decades. The test gave an accurate indication of problem solving and analytical ability. This was the era when computers were fast replacing typewriters and older methods of computing and storing data. Secretaries with just "average" intelligence were having a tough time learning the new software being developed at breakneck speed. You didn't need to be a genius or a Mensa member to learn this stuff, but it sure helped if you were on the upside of the Bell Curve. Secretarial pools around the country were being filled with people that some would count among the cognitive elite, people with IQs above 115, people who could learn the advancing software and learn it quickly.
James, or JL as he liked to be called, was pushing forty and had never been married. "I like women too much," he was wont to say. He meant that he didn't think he could stay monogamous that long. That didn't stop some of the single women in the office from wishing they could snag him, and for good reason. He was successful in the conventional American Dream sense of the term—a well off executive who kept his strapping six-foot-two, handsome self in good shape with disciplined eating and vigorous games of racquetball. His thinning premature grey hair gave him a distinguished, professorial kind of look that women found sexy. He was also a fair employer, giving raises and bonuses to his employees, including the secretaries, all of whom earned much more than minimum wage. He made sexist comments from time to time, though he never forced himself on anyone, never chased a woman around his desk, not literally or metaphorically.
His dalliances with some of his secretaries was a worst kept secret. There was no metaphorical casting couch—these women were all too willing to sleep with the boss, some of whom harbored hopes of something long-term. They got particularly excited during JL's self-created, twice-yearly Sexy Secretaries Week, a wild (some said perverted) variation of National Secretaries Week. Those interested were required to take a different version of the Wonderlic than what they took before coming onboard. Then, the lady with the highest score received a financial bonus in her weekly paycheck, as well as a date with the boss. Winners who wished to enter the contest again were required to wait at least a year.
To avoid jealously among the ranks, JL wouldn't announce the winner. Discreetly, he'd slip the bonus check into their pay envelope and make the date after work hours. This left them guessing, though the winner sometimes gave herself away through excessive smiling and giggling.
Alyssa Combs had become one of JL's favorites. In her late twenties, she was the sole blond among the secretarial group at that time and the "smartest" if one based intelligence solely on IQ. Her Wonderlic score of 139 put her IQ in the high 120s to 130 range. So much for dumb blonds. In addition to her secretarial duties, she tutored the tech-challenged in the company (management and secretaries alike) on the finer points of computer software. She got bonus pay for this, a fact she kept to herself. In this era of big hair, Alyssa fit right in. She wore her golden locks in layered waves and swirls that dropped just below her shoulders. She dressed more professionally than most of the others, more executive than secretarial in her tasteful skirt and jacket suit combos.
Alyssa came onboard during the waning days of the Reagan administration. No surprise, she impressed JL with her Wonderlic score as well as her blond good looks and wry sense of humor. She laughed when her co-workers first told her about Sexy Secretaries Week. She thought they were joking until the actual week came and she found herself once again in a room by herself, pencil in hand and the Wonderlic test spread out on the desk before her, timed by a staffer in an adjacent room. This is silly, she thought, laughing to herself, while still determined to do the best she could. The questions were different, though of the same type that appeared on the first test she took. Practice might not make perfect, but it can make better as Alyssa proved by scoring an impressive 141, a two-point improvement over last time.
The thing is, she didn't know just how well she scored. None of them did. The scores were a closely guarded secret. If they asked, JL would say something like, "Good enough to work for me." Of course, when the winner saw her bonus check and JL asked her out, she surmised that she had outscored her co-workers, just not by how much.
Alyssa's score was an all-time record for company secretaries. She was only mildly curious how she did. She knew she had done well because she knew she was smart. School and other cognitive challenges had always come easy to her. She was a whiz at Rubik's Cube, could beat the older brother who had taught her to play chess. She never went to college. Coming from a family of five kids, her factory-worker dad couldn't afford to send her.
JL never tried to cajole any of the secretaries that piqued his interest. If one declined his invite, that was that. Alyssa Combs was hardly among the few who declined. She thought JL was the sexiest, best looking boss she had ever worked for. It didn't hurt that he drove an Acura—not the car specifically, but what it stood for. After all, this was the go-go, greed is good eighties. "Yes, I'd love to," she said when he asked her to dinner.
She had never been to Marconi's, which featured great food at a moderate price. She didn't know quite what to expect. She'd heard the rumors of JL bedding his Wonderlic champs on the first date. One-night stands were hardly her thing, and if that was JL's intention with her, if that's all he wanted, he could forget it. Thus, she felt somewhat guarded as they faced each other across the table in the subdued lighting of the main dining room. She wore a blue dress and high heels and noticed, before they had entered, the way JL stared at her full, shapely calves. She felt a bit overdressed compared to his attire, jeans and a long-sleeve, open collar, casual dress shirt, blue with light blue stripes. His brown leather, rubber-soled shoes looked like something you'd wear at a bowling alley. He'd look great in anything he wore, she decided, while perusing her menu. After they ordered, she couldn't resist asking what she'd been curious about ever since she learned of his Sexy Secretaries Week. "So, JL, did you ever take the Wonderlic yourself? And, if so, how'd you do?"
"You know, you're the first secretary who ever asked me that," he said. "I cheated a little bit because I timed myself the twelve minutes. How'd I do? Pretty good, though not nearly as good as you."
She grinned and reminded him that she didn't know how she did. "Only the boss knows, the girls told me, and the scores stay with him."
He nodded. "Right. But aren't you curious?"
"A little." She paused, debating if she should say something else in that regard. "Look, JL, I am curious but I also think this whole thing is kind of silly. I mean, it sounds like you've got an IQ fetish or something."
He grinned and nodded. "Perhaps I do, because I find brainy, attractive women like yourself sexy to a fault."
She shook her head, not fully comprehending. "Some guys I've been out with are intimidated by bright women. An ex-boyfriend of mine couldn't stand it when I'd win at Scrabble and chess. Another self-proclaimed Rubik's Cube expert refused to play after I beat him a few times. College-educated guys are the worst. They can't stand being beaten in anything brainy by a chick who didn't go beyond high school."
"I get it. The male ego is a fragile thing. But I'm far from intimidated. I graduated from Franklin and Marshall, not exactly top tier but pretty good. Then got an MBA at Loyola. My IQ is above average, even in the superior range. But, if the Wonderlic has the validity that it's supposed to, then, IQ-wise, for lack of a better word, you're smarter than me."
"Then I should be CEO," she laughed. "Maybe we can change positions. I know, I need a college degree." She had already told him why she didn't attend college.
He laughed with her. Then he turned serious. "Look, you might not make CEO, but you're smart enough to work your way out of the secretarial pool and into another department. Human resources, for example."
