A/N: A follow up to the 1967 film adaptation of "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying", with just a few more modern touches added. Looking at the movie through the eyes of our times, there was a demographic in the company that stood out like a sore thumb. On the plus side, this story is a little light on the music, but not as light as my non-musical musicals...

Much Too Long

Bill Watersonian, Lynn Johnsonian, Gary Larsonian and Adam Scottsian stood in the locker room of the Acme Window Washing company ("Your Panes are Our Gains"), slipping on the yellow coveralls and safety belts that were part of their work attire. Their supervisor, Mr. Charles Shulls, had just bellowed at them to get moving.

"I don't suppose ol' Shulls could have an accident and fall out of a skyscraper somewhere," Bill moaned. Having been with the cleaning crew the longest, he was marginally the leader of the group.

"Nah - I don't think he ever leaves the ground floor now," Adam responded. "Once you get into management, your squeegee days are done unless you burn out or get fired."

"Must be nice. No wind, no birds, no sixteen floors of nothing below you," Gary said as he pictured himself in a suit behind a desk.

Lynn joined him in the dream and they both began to sing a duet:

The job we have right now
May well be simple but it's true
Stuck here with all you bums
There's nothing more for us to do

Climb up into the sky
Just to wash, scrub, rinse and dry
Stuck on some wall like a fly
I know it sounds kind of mean
Gotta find a way out of this scene

"You know guys, Ponty found a way out. He made it big, and it only took two weeks to do it," Gary added as they grabbed their equipment to haul out to the van. J. Pierrepont "Ponty" Finch had been a co-worker of theirs on the window washing team that serviced the building that housed World Wide Widgets on its 30th floor in New York City. One day, after starting to read the book "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying", he scampered off the washing scaffolding and into the office building, never to be seen by the crew again. His fate was only known when they saw the article in the newspaper business section about his becoming the Chairman of the Board for the company.

"If that ain't a success, I don't know what is," Bill said with a sigh.

"Oh, come on. If Ponty could do it, so could we!" exclaimed Lynn. "Anybody want to race me to the top of World Wide Wickets?" she asked excitedly. As one of the few women window washers in the company, she had always been motivated to break new ground and was both independent and competitive.

"Not me - I've been in corporate life before. I'll just stay here and watch you scale Mount Olympus," Adam stated flatly.

"Come on, this isn't the 50's - it's 1967! Afraid of getting beat by a woman libber?"

"What's the point of seeing who can swim through a pool of piranhas the fastest when you don't have to jump in to begin with?" he retorted.

"I'll do it," Gary interjected. "I mean, I don't mind losing to you, Lynn. But I think BOTH of us could beat Ponty's time if we put our mind to it, and that's my goal. I've got everyone's equipment fixed for now, so they shouldn't need me for that. But how are both of us going to be the Chairman at the same time?"

"Chairperson," Lynn corrected.

"We'll just say the Chair to keep it civil," Adam said. "But it's a good point. Tell you what - WWW puts all their senior management news in the business section of the Daily Blab, so just make it to the board of directors or two weeks, whichever comes first. Put in for vacation, call in sick, whatever you have to do. There's a series of storms coming in, so maybe Shulls won't need us much for the next few weeks anyway. Do you want to start tomorrow or wait until next week?"

"I'd start today if we didn't have the Mason building to do," Lynn grinned. "I honor my commitments."

"Tomorrow it is then, lady and gentlemen; but for today we storm the ramparts of the Mason building. Onward!" Bill called as he led the group out the door.

...

Lynn Johnsonian walked out of the elevator on the 30th floor into the lobby of World Wide Widgets. She had no idea where anything was and didn't know anybody. But she could read signs, ask questions, and wasn't afraid to do either. With an official-looking folder in her hand (which was stuffed with various hand-outs, newspaper clippings and about a half of a ream of blank paper) she made her way around the lobby until she saw a sign that read "Personnel Manager". One could still see where the letters for a Mr. Bert O'Bratt had been on the door, but had been removed - recently, from the look of it. A woman came out of the office. "May I help you?" she asked.

"I'm here to apply for a job," Lynn replied.

"You're in the right place, Honey - just the wrong time. We've had a shake up recently and we're still trying to get organized. I'm Miss Smith, by the way - call me Smitty."

"I'm Lynn Johnsonian. So I can't talk to Mr. O'Bratt?"

"Who? Oh, him. His name is Bratt, middle initial O. He's been kicked upstairs."

"I hope it didn't hurt."

"No!" Smitty laughed. "Although sometimes...nevermind. He got promoted; Mr. Tackaberry is in charge of personnel now."

"I suppose I should talk to him then."

"I don't think he's seeing anyone today."

Lynn played one of her trump cards. "And Ponty spoke so well of him, too."

"Ponty?"

"Pierrepont Finch. He and I...used to work together on a few projects, like the Mason buil...deal."

"You worked with Mr. Finch? Just a moment..." Smitty said and she rapped on the door, waited five seconds, and stuck her head inside. Johnsonian only heard indistinct voices but Smitty pulled her head out. "Mr. Tackaberry will see you now."

She was ushered into the office and sat down in a chair. Mr. Tackaberry, a thin middle-aged man with horn-rimmed glasses looked up from his desk. "So, you're an associate of Mr. Finch, Miss..." he said before pausing. He had forgotten her name as soon as he heard 'Finch'.

"Johnsonian. Lynn Johnsonian. Yes, I've worked with him on a few projects in the past."

"Big projects?"

"About fifteen stories."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I mean the stories I could tell! I must have about fifteen different ones."

"That Mr. Finch, he was quite the go-getter. Really bright."

"Was?"

"Oh, well, he quit not to long after becoming Chairman. Said he wanted to go into politics. I think he's got a future ahead of him!"

"Yes, of course. That's my Ponty! But as much as he loved this company, I thought it just showed what a great place it must be to work for. He spoke very highly of you and the other members of the company - one big, happy family he said!"

"Well, you know, we try...so you haven't spoken to him recently?"

"Not for a few weeks. Would you like me to ask him about you?"

"Oh no, that isn't necessary, heh heh. You can tell him we said 'hi' next time you speak to him. In the meantime, how would you like to join the secretarial pool?"

"It's a start," she said as she shook his hand. After leaving the office, she broke into song:

Well there's no denying it's a brand-new start
Secretary is just a bit part
Writing letters and taking calls are not my station
Won't be defined by telephone or dictation

There's more to life than office peon
Like a business is more than just some neon
Rise up through the ranks and see how the other half lives
Get a promotion and become one of the junior executives

Her first few assignments over the next two days were common enough - the executives she worked for all had low or mid-level jobs in production, distribution, marketing and even finance. It gave her a good broad view of the lower workings (and intrigue) of the company, but the second time that she got pinched on her posterior she had enough information and 'accidentally' stabbed the exec in the arm while she was reaching down to pick up her pad she dropped suddenly. Not surprisingly, she found herself in the personnel office again.

"Miss Johnsonian, I've called you in because of a report from one of our junior executives. Mr. Atkinson had to go to the doctor for a puncture wound on his arm."

"Oh Mr. Tackaberry, I do so apologize. I was so shocked that he was consorting with the enemy that I dropped my steno pad and when I bent over to pick it up, I must have swung out my hand for balance. I didn't know he was standing right behind me."

Tackaberry was about to admonish her for objecting to the 'fringe benefits' that executives traditionally enjoyed, but completely lost his train of thought at what she said. "The enemy? What enemy?" he demanded.

"Well, National Widget, of course. Maybe he was just exchanging trade secrets as...part...of...oh dear, it probably wasn't a legitimate business deal, was it?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"I think not, and this confirms what some of us suspected. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes, Miss Johnsonian, I'm going to pay a little call to Mr. Atkinson." Tackaberry stormed out of the room, not quite closing the door. Lynn could hear him make a call from the outside desk to security, and he waited until a uniformed man showed up. Together, they strode off and she waited patiently, composing herself for the next part. After about fifteen minutes Tackaberry returned, still slightly red in the face from the commotion. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but Mr. Atkinson was released and personally walked out of the building. Now, where were we?"

She braced herself. "I was just about to describe an opportunity this company has to become one of the leaders in the modern age of business."

"Really? I don't remember..."

"Let me start by asking you this...how many female executives does this company have? Altogether?"

...

Gary Larsonian waited outside the building during the gray dawn hours; when the van with the cleaning crew pulled up, he tensed. Several men filed out of the van, carrying buckets, mops and supplies. Gary jumped out of his car and ran around to the rear where he opened the trunk and hid himself from their view. He scanned the contents of the trunk, then peeked around the corner at the newly arriving workers. The windbreaker was going to have to be left behind. He stripped it off, threw it in the trunk, and grabbed a broom, dustpan and pail. He waited until the whole group was walking toward the side entrance, and then quickly raced across the pavement to join the tail of the group.

The crew boss waited at the door as everyone filed in. He eyed Gary suspiciously. "Who are you?" Guzman asked the darker-skinned man. "Are you Lupe's cousin?"

"Larsonian, sir. First day on the job for this location. My, it's a big building, isn't it? Do we have to clean the whole thing?"

"Don't be an idiot, Larsonian. We're just cleaning from the 30th floor up. Now get in there and don't steal anything like the last guy!" He growled and Gary gave him a fake salute and rushed in, smiling as he gained entrance. Phase one was complete. The entire crew packed into a service elevator, the door closed, and Guzman punched the button for the 30th floor. At this hour there would be no interruptions, and the car continued to ascend until it reached its destination. The men piled out to go about their assigned chores while Gary held back and pushed the 'hold' button. After everyone had cleared the area, he stepped out into the empty hallway. He sang:

Turn me loose in this land
And find my way to a destiny so grand
With clean restrooms and drinking fountains
And donuts stacked as tall as mountains
With office views of the skyway

Who wouldn't want to work up here?
With your goals and deadlines clear.
Not like those workers
Cleaning windows outside
Dreaming of a way
To live a life at work inside

As one of the janitorial staff came around the corner mopping, Gary immediately busied himself looking for loose papers and cigarette ash around the floor that he could sweep up into his dustpan. Much later while sweeping up some cigarette butts on the floor, he heard a light 'clunk' in his pan. He sifted through the debris and found a key. He cleaned it on his pants and placed it in his pocket before dumping out his pan in a nearby trashcan and continuing.

As the time neared 7am, the crew started gathering their equipment and soon were filing into the elevator to return to the ground floor. Gary hung back and ducked around a corner, waiting. He heard the doors close and the sound of the elevator fade as it descended. "Phew," he said as he relaxed. Phase two accomplished.

He hung around as the floor started to fill up with people. He quickly found out that the more people there were, the less he was noticed, until he was able to walk around confident that he was invisible.

As he strolled about, he noticed a nicely suited man standing in front of a door labeled 'Executive Washroom'. He was frantically searching his pockets while muttering "No. No. No, no no. Where is it?" He was trying to handle a cigarette while switching hands. "No, not again! If Uncle Biggley finds out I lost my key again, I'm out on the street no matter WHAT mother says..."

Gary considered his options. He knew from a picture on the wall that Mr. Biggley was the President of the company; if the boss fired his nephew, it would create an opening. But he couldn't realistically jump to a position like that from janitor. He wasn't even an employee yet, technically. He made his decision and approached the man. "Excuse me, did you lose something?"

The executive looked blankly at the janitor for a moment before he focused on the question. "My key. My executive washroom key."

"What does it look like?"

"It's iron, about this long," he said holding his fingers apart about two inches "and it has my hopes and dreams attached to it."

Gary felt for the man. "I believe sir, that destiny has brought us together." He reached into his pocket and produced the key he had found. "Is this it?"

The man's eyes moved from Larsonian to the key, then back to Larsonian, then back to the key again as if he had just seen a magician pull an elephant out of a matchbox. "My key? My key!" He grabbed the key and tried it in the lock; a turn resulted in a 'click' and the door swung open an inch. He sagged against doorframe, grateful beyond words. "Safe. No one will ever know."

"I bet the company must be a great place to work for, sir" Gary said to the much-relieved man.

Coming to his senses again, the man refocused on the janitor. "It is. It's the only place I've ever worked, and the only place I WANT to work. I hope they bury me here one day."

"It must be nice. Glad to help you stay here, then."

"Yes, I'm...you know...I wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for you. Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

"Well, if it's such a great place to work - I'd love to be a part of it."

"Oh, that's right - the company contracts out for the cleaning services. How'd you like to work in a mailroom? I've got a connection with the new manager down there that took my spot when I got promoted. You'd have to quit your current job, of course."

"It's a start," Gary said with a grin. "Honestly, I don't think the cleaning crew will even miss me."

"Great. The name's Bud Frump, by the way." Gary wouldn't have known that Bud Frump had a great change of heart since the departure of J. Pierrepont Finch, and was now - if not liked - at least a well-tolerated member of the executive team. With no target for his jealousy and the beginnings of a true esprit de corps, he was no longer the backbiting, butt-kissing, nepotistic-riding man he had been. At least not as much, anyway. Let's face it - he was still an executive.

Gary got to work that day in the bowels of the mailroom, where he quickly showed his gift of being mechanically inclined by fixing some sorting machinery. By the next day word had spread, and he found himself asked to 'look at' a teletype, mimeograph and even the telephone nest, as they called the mass of wires that tied the company's phone system together. In fact, he was just on such a call on the third day when he helped Bert O. Bratt receive an important telephone call that refused to come to his desk; a broken plug on a phone line had caused the problem, and he diagnosed it quickly.

"Just a moment Jerry," Bratt told the person on the other end as Larsonian was packing up his cardboard box of tools. "What's your name, son?"

"Larsonian, sir. From the mailroom."

"Mailroom? Larsonian, you've got a real gift there. I really needed this call."

"Thank you, Mr. Bratt. I've always enjoyed getting things running again after they break down."

"How would you like a promotion? We could use someone bright in maintenance to keep this company ship afloat. I can't tell you how many times we get slowed down when something breaks."

"Sounds good to me, sir."

"Excellent. Report to Mr. Hodgkins in Maintenance and tell him I said you're transferred there. If you'll excuse me, I've got Canada on hold."

"The whole country? I'll leave you to it, sir," Gary said as he saluted.

...

Being an executive, even a junior one, required certain traits. You either had to have a relative higher up in the organization or rely on your skills. Those skills could be directly related to your work - such as working accounts, creating products or managing assets. They could also be indirectly related, such as competing against your fellow managers. This required astute observation, keen timing, and a killer instinct. In other words, you had to watch your enemy and pick just the right time to stab him in the back.

Below the veneer of gray suits, pasted smiles and modulated voices Lynn Johnsonian knew there would be politics going on. She could sense it, as a song formed in her head:

And now I know
Cooperation is just a fancy term to say
I thought I knew
But now I know that original ideas never grow
Out of meeting day

Now that I've seen this nightmare world come true
Aspiring kings shove, trample and run you through
I stand here and watch and wonder if it's worth the pain
A top junior exec is just so much pain without any gain

Lynn observed, not for an opening of vulnerability, but the whole department. So much more energy was wasted trying to show up the faults of fellow junior executives than doing your own work. She could finish in a few hours what real work they took all day to accomplish. If she continued that pace, they would resent her in no time and her future in the company was going to difficult.

Except she didn't care about her future in the company - she just had to get to that board of directors.

...

Gary had barely gotten back to the company shop than his boss gave him another assignment - a phone outage in the junior executive room. Having a pretty good idea what the problem was going to be, he packed up his equipment (in a too-heavy metal toolbox that had replaced his cardboard box) and headed toward the problem. Walking into the room from the rear, he noticed that the name he was given was who he thought it might be. He cleared his throat and feigned ignorance. "Maintenance for Johnsonian?"

Lynn turned around and smiled, then hid it quickly. "Over here," she said as she waved him to her desk. Gary obliged and stood by her small desk. "I'm having trouble with my phone line. Good to see you, Gary," she said in a lowered voice.

"We've been having a lot of that lately - faulty phone plugs, I think. It's good to see you too, Lynn. Let me run a few checks to make sure it's on this end and not at the switch box or in-between." He knelt down and started pulling tools out. "How's it been going?"

"Sometimes it just cuts in and out. It's really competitive here. I can see why Adam doesn't miss it. It started this morning."

"I'm going to plug in my own handset and try to call a test number. At least you've made it to management already. I'm out of the decision loop still." He plugged in his test phone and tried to call, but there was no carrier. "I can't get anything. Give me a minute and I'll put a new plug in; that should fix it."

"Sounds good. I know I'm better than these people, but they're ahead of me in the good ol' boy network."

"Yeah, I know there's a network issue. Tell me about it," he said.

"I wanted to tell my friend about an interesting article I read today," she said as she pushed a newspaper page toward him. It was folded so that an article was isolated from the page.

He took the paper and placed it in his toolbox, before stripping and crimping a few wires. "I think that should do it. Give me a few minutes and I'll give you a call to test the line, okay?"

"Thank you, Mr..."

"Larsonian. Gary Larsonian."

"Thank you, Gary. I'll wait for your call." Gary packed up his things, gave her a wink and left the room. He really was a good egg, she thought.

When Gary left the room, he made his way to the utility bathroom and locked himself inside. In there, he quickly read the article Lynn had given him. It was an article about the legislature in California considering a law to require large corporations to have a more diverse board of directors. Female representation would be required by law or the business would suffer unspecified repercussions. "Very interesting," he said to himself.

He returned to the maintenance room and looked around to make sure no one was there before picking up the phone and dialing an extension.

"World Wide Widget, Lynn Johnsonian speaking."

"Lynn, this is Gary. Can you hear me okay?" He began to sing into the phone:

I got hired this week, so sleek
Thought I had it in the bag
Corporate ladder so high up in the sky

Lynn continued with the song:

I miss my job so much, in my old life
Not a single friendly face
Each position filled with strife

They joined in together:

I think it's gonna be too long a time
To break through the barriers to find
To get ahead I have to supplant them all
Oh no no no
We won't play that game
To rise above by making someone take the fall

"Look Lynn, it's Friday. I think we should be able to brainstorm something this weekend. There's a big board meeting Wednesday afternoon. What do you say we shoot the works then? That would beat Ponty's time and we can get back to our lives sooner."

"How did you know about the meeting Wednesday?"

"I'm all over the building. I hear lots of things."

"Really? Tell you what - let's have lunch Saturday and work this out. I think we can figure something by the middle of next week."

"Okay. Eleven at Roscoe's?"

"Sure. If it takes too long, we'll move the brain trust to another location. See you then, I've got someone with that look in their eye coming over here. Probably stuck on a client approach." The phone went dead, and Gary hung up. He saw the article again and put it in his locker. He was sure that was the key to their next move."

...

Wednesday afternoon, the members of the board of World Wide Widget slowly gathered in the top floor office and meeting room reserved for the crème de la crème of that business. Henry Keystone, the newest Chairman and the replacement for J. Pierrepont Finch, greeted each as they came through the door. After several arrived, he counted heads and announced "Gentlemen, I believe we've reached a quorum." They began to sing:

Look how far that we've climbed
Up here is where we should land
Got away from the farm
Got some stock options from my old man

I think I could stay here forever
Pools, parties and golf out in the sun
Perks like holiday presents to open
Gonna retire before I reach sixty-one

Several of the last-arriving members joined in the final lines before they all sat down around the large conference table. Keystone picked up his phone and punched a button. "Delores, bring in those sales reports please. Delores?" He pushed the button on the cradle several times but got no answer. "Excuse me a moment, gentlemen, while I slip back to my earlier days as a messenger boy." He got up from his chair and started toward the door.

"Messenger boy, that's a good one," Will Stooge called after him. "You started out as the President of Acme Messenger Service when you father gave it to you."

"That may be, Will, but I did have to get my own mail. Once." He winked and disappeared out the door for only about two minutes before he returned.

"Couldn't find her?" Tom Lackey asked.

"She was at her desk. The phone isn't working - she says it's a defective part that has been happening throughout the building for the last several months. Someone is coming to fix it, and the report will be on its way shortly. In the meantime, gentlemen, why don't we have a smoke and discuss the latest overseas news?" Keystone got a box of cigars and sat down, taking one and passing them to his right.

Shortly afterward, Gary showed up at the door with his toolbox. "Excuse me, I got a report of a phone out of order?"

"This one right here young man," Keystone said as he pushed his chair back. "This won't take long, will it?"

"No sir, it should take only a few minutes. We've been upgrading these defective plugs when they go out - no use spending the money until we have to, right?"

"Right. I think that's written on a plaque around here somewhere," Nick Minion said as he twisted around, glancing at the walls; the others laughed at the comment.

Gary ignored the fun and almost closed the door before holding it open for someone else. Lynn walked in with a folder in her hands and took it to Keystone.

"Where's Delores, and who are you?"

"She went on break, sir. I'm Lynn Johnsonian, junior exec."

"Junior exec? Well, alright. Give me that report." He took it from her outstretched hands.

"Miss, could you help me trace this line please?" Gary asked as he put down the phone and started tracing the phone line away from the desk. The two walked away from the desk and off to one side; unobserved, Gary handed Lynn another folder from his toolbox.

"We might as well get on with the meeting - I've got a tee time in less than two hours," Minion announced.

"Okay. These things are off the record anyway unless we want to make something official. Let's take a look at this sales report, shall we?" Keystone said. He opened the folder, but instead of seeing columns of numbers and rows of departments, he was assaulted by several 'memos' from various departments discussing a development in the business world. Most of the names were fake, but they all seemed to be concerned about an article (which was conveniently included) from the news. "Oh dear," Keystone uttered as he leafed through the pages. "Oh no. This could be trouble."

"What?" Ed Carbon and Sam Koppe said simultaneously.

"This is ponderous, gentlemen." He passed around the memos and article while summarizing what he had read. "Our very way of life is threatened here. The company way is under attack."

"Do we have to sing 'The Company Way' song now?" Lackey asked.

"No - I'm too distraught. I need a drink." He got up and walked to a cabinet and opened it, revealing a bar. He pulled out a bottle of scotch, poured a measure into a glass, and then finished the bottle while leaving the glass alone. He sat back down in his chair and let out a deep breath. "This could be the end of World Wide Widgets."

"Why, sir?" Lynn asked from off to the side. She and Gary had been ignored in the sudden turn of mood.

"Why? Because...because...we've done things the same way for a hundred years. Generation after generation have passed through this boardroom. This table is sixty years old," he said while knocking on it. "My father did his first inside trading deal here. Stooge here had an uncle on the board, and Carbon and Koppe came via a board member swap with Xerox years ago. Things have been done the way things have been done. Now all that is gone."

"But sir, it isn't. I'm sure you're aware of the liberation movement here in New York - I think the march went past this very building at one point. Business is business; women buy your widgets too. In fact, they influence over sixty percent of the decisions to buy our product. Having a female board member would not only help offer a woman's perspective, but at the same time show that you are in touch with today's time and customers. Why be behind the legal eight-ball when you can be out front, leading the way?"

Keystone looked at the other board members. "But where could we find a company with a female board member to hire away?"

"Why not use one of our own?" she asked, playing her most difficult card.

"Excuse me?"

"Promote from within. Someone already in the company. I was explaining to Bert Bratt this week that..."

"Bert, the VP for Employee Morale and Psychological Adjustment?"

"I believe that's his full title, yes. After seeing these reports, I was explaining to him that the time is right - not only would a woman on the board boost the morale and motivate the women in our company, but just as importantly they are psychologically ready for a change. Ask anyone. Ask this guy," she said, pointing to Gary who was pretending to arrange his toolbox.

"You, sir. What's your name?"

"Larsonian. Gary Larsonian. Maintenance."

"How would you feel about having a woman on the board of directors at our company?"

Gary shrugged. "Wouldn't make any difference. I'm down in the trenches; this is the first time I've ever even seen the board, and I don't even know all your names except what I've seen on the pictures in the foyer. Might look kinda progressive to see a woman up there."

"But the changes..."

"Why have changes? Promote this lady, make the announcement that she's been added to the board of directors, and get your publicity. Put her on a non-binding probationary period where her job will be to observe and offer suggestions without voting; and then we can see how it goes."

"Non-voting?"

"Just to start; I think that's prudent for any new board member, no matter who they are. You wouldn't want to have things change too fast, right?"

Keystone started to smile. Either the idea or the scotch was settling in. "I like the way you think, Garysonian. It's almost like you know this company inside and out."

"Well sir," Gary admitted "I really do, in a way. Working on the phones and equipment in so many offices, I really do have a feel for this company. How the people work. How they don't work. And who they work with and against, if you know what I mean. I could sing about it if you'd like."

"No, that won't be necessary," Keystone said. That song could open up a great many cans of worms.

"Mr. Keystone?" Lynn asked.

Having forgotten already about the junior exec in the room for the moment, Keystone turned his attention to her. "Yes?"

"If I might make a suggestion, sir. The liberation movement is just a small wave of a much bigger tide sweeping our country. Not only one based on equality of sex, but also of race, religion and creed. It seems to me that you could strike a double blow to the old system and hire this man as well. I mean, he...ah...seems to know a lot about the company. That's useful information to keep close at hand, you know? I think having him on the board in the same capacity as me would sure look good in the press too."

Keystone looked at Gary more closely. The man did have skin that was a little darker than most. "And who would you represent?"

"Myself."

"No, I mean...if I understand her right...you're supposed to be different?"

"I like to think everyone is different, sir. But if you mean in terms of demographics, my mother is Puerto Rican and my father is Black. You don't have to worry - I'm not left-handed or anything."

Keystone tried to digest that last part as some type of code and gave up. "Do both of you even OWN a suit? Never mind, we can send you to a tailor." He turned to the board members. "I, Henry Keystone, Chairman of the Board of World Wide Widgets, do hereby move that we create two new positions on the board for Miss Johnsonian and Mr. Garysonian."

"Larsonian, sir."

"Right. Mr. Larsonian. Both to be non-voting, probationary positions of...oh...thirty days. After the thirty days, the effect of their hiring will be evaluated and subject to change, blah blah blah. Those in favor?" Keystone looked around the room. All reluctantly raised their hand; it was going to be quite a change, and it still wasn't sinking in. "Opposed?" Nobody was left to vote against. "Motion carried. Miss Johnsonian, would you please retrieve Delores from her desk? I think we have a press release to put out."

"Yes, Mr. Keystone," Lynn said, winking at Gary as she walked past him toward the door. "We'll call it a tie," she whispered as she walked out of the room.

"Mr. Larsonian. As the newest board member, it will be your job to grab two more chairs from the storage room. We've got to get you two cleaned up for pictures. Can't have just any people adorning our foyer, you know. I don't even think we've taken down Finch's photo yet."

The End

A/N: Of course, before the probationary period was over, Gary and Lynn resigned from the board - having proven they could beat Ponty's time, they then became assistants to him in his new job as the President's Chief of Staff.

Times have changed from when this movie was made - but they haven't changed completely. When I heard that California was going to mandate women representation on company boards, this story came to mind. I watched the movie again and couldn't help but notice that 1) There were no women executives and 2) The only person of color was one secretary.

The tunes these song parodies are based on come from the same artist.