Day 117 - Thanks For the Memories

Shellagh at Takhte Tavoos Office

I missed observing Administrative Professionals Day on Wednesday. Well, I missed observing it in the sense that I didn't do anything to observe it. But since Administrative Professionals Day is my very least favorite unofficial secular holiday of the entire year, I didn't actually miss it. I wish it would be erased from the calendar of days to observe each year.

Other secular holidays like Mothers' Day or Fathers' Day or even Grandparents' Day I understand. I can usually pick out a mother or a father or even a grandparent from a crowd. And even if I make a mistake and assume an adult woman is a mother and she turns out not to be, I can at least be assured that she had a mother so the day has some meaning for her.

But how do you pick out an administrative professional from a crowd? What does an administrative professional look like? 

I've seen restaurants hand out roses to every woman who walked in on Administrative Professionals Day with a "Happy Admin Day" greeting, making at least as many errors by handing roses to women who weren't admin professionals as they got it right. At my office one year, everyone whose desk was in the interior corridor in front of the offices with windows and doors, where the secretaries' desks were, got a plant on their desks on Administrative Professionals Day, including a couple of men whose desks were in that row, although they didn't have the same position titles as the women. At least one was not pleased that the bosses didn't seem to recognize the difference in their titles and responsibilities.

But this year, I am glad for the holiday because it brought to mind the many women who were our receptionists and secretaries with National Iranian Radio and Television (NIRT). Each was memorable, some even unforgettable.

Our first receptionist was Shahni, a nickname. Her real name was probably Shahnaz. She was married to an American who came with her to Tehran, but they were no longer living together. Her uncle died shortly after we arrived so we learned a bit about the mourning process in Iran. It was customary for close family members to remain in mourning for 40 days. In Shahni's case, that meant she wore black dresses, some of the sexiest dresses I have ever seen, for 40 days.

When Shahni stopped working for us, Parvin* became our receptionist. She didn't last very long. Her English wasn't very strong. I asked her to write a note for our landlord about the lack of hot water in the kitchen to let him know we needed a plumber. When someone else read her note, he said the verb she used more closely translated to the hot water tap being broken into pieces than not functioning as it should. When we asked her to makes photocopies for us, she never did the work. When we asked her why, she explained that she had looked up the word receptionist in the dictionary and she learned that a receptionist answers the telephone and greets people. That's all she expected to do.

Fereshteh,* the woman who arranged the repair of our washing machine, began when Parvin left. 

Shellagh and Bill

Our first secretary was Mary whose husband probably worked for one of the American oil companies in Iran. It was Mary who invited us all to the Christmas party which led to our adventure on the bus.  Mary and her family left Iran very suddenly. I didn't learn the reason until a few years later when Neal and Shirley came through Minneapolis. I had heard the story generally, but didn't realize that Mary's family was one of those involved. 

An American student at the Tehran American School was arrested for possession of heroin. He was 17 years old, although Iranians considered him 18, and therefore an adult. It took a doctor's testimony that based on his analysis of the boy's X-rays, the boy could not be older than 17 for the court to dismiss the charges against him as an adult. As a minor, the court ordered him to leave the country. Officials at the Tehran American School made it clear to the parents of other students they had reason to believe were involved with drug use that they should take their children out of the country as soon as possible. One of those students was Mary's son.

Jennifer* and Keith*

When Mary left, Shellagh took her place. Shellagh is Australian, married to Bill from Scotland. Bill met Shellagh on a business trip to Australia. Bill worked for IBM in Tehran. Shellagh started working with us when we were still in our office on Takhte Tavoos Ave and she continued when we moved to the space on Pahlavi Blvd where our classes were held after the first year. Shellagh and Bill lived close to several of us so we socialized with them often. When they learned Bill was being transferred to Paris, Shellagh told us she hoped she would be able to find a program to learn French like our program. I continue to hear from Shellagh and Bill each year at Christmas. I was able to visit them in Paris at Christmas when I lived in Romania as well as several other times when I was in Paris on business. Mom and Dad and I also stopped in Paris to visit them on our way home from Romania. When my sister Joan and her family lived in Paris they also met Bill and Shellagh.

Jennifer* began when Shellagh left. Jennifer looked like Valerie Bertinelli and was married to Keith*, whom Karl knew from his days as a Fulbright researcher in Isfahan. Jennifer's parents also lived in Tehran which is how Jennifer met Keith.

This year, to observe Administrative Professionals Day I say thanks for the memories.

*a name, not necessarily the right one