The Apartment Page #14

The four friends manage to work up some sickly smiles.

DOBISCH:

We just dropped in to wish him the

best.

(quickly brushes

cigar ash off desk)

KIRKEBY:

(as they move toward

the door)

So long, Baxter. We know you won't

let us down.

BUD:

So long, fellas. Drop in any time.

The door is always open -- to my

office.

They leave. Sheldrake and Bud are alone.

SHELDRAKE:

I like the way you handled that.

Well, how does it feel to be an

executive?

BUD:

Fine. And I want you to know I'll

work very hard to justify your

confidence in me --

SHELDRAKE:

Sure you will.

(a beat)

Say, Baxter, about the apartment -

now that you got a raise, don't you

think we can afford a second key?

BUD:

Well -- I guess so.

SHELDRAKE:

You know my secretary -- Miss

Olsen --

BUD:

Oh, yes. Very attractive. Is she --

the lucky one?

SHELDRAKE:

No, you don't understand. She's a

busybody -- always poking her nose

into things -- and with that key

passing back and forth -- why take

chances?

BUD:

Yes, sir. You can't be too careful.

He glances toward the glass partitions to make sure that

nobody is watching.

BUD:

I have something here -- I think it

belongs to you.

Out of his pocket he has slipped the compact with the fleur-

de-lis pattern we saw Fran use at the Rickshaw. He holds it

out to Sheldrake.

SHELDRAKE:

To me?

BUD:

I mean -- the young lady -- whoever

she may be -- it was on the couch

when I got home last night.

SHELDRAKE:

Oh, yes. Thanks.

BUD:

The mirror is broken.

(opens compact,

revealing crack in mirror)

It was broken when I found it.

SHELDRAKE:

So it was.

(takes the compact)

She threw it at me.

BUD:

Sir?

SHELDRAKE:

You know how it is -- sooner or

later they all give you a bad time.

BUD:

(man-of-the-world)

I know how it is.

SHELDRAKE:

You see a girl a couple of times a

week -- just for laughs -- and

right away she thinks you're going

to divorce your wife. I ask you --

is that fair?

BUD:

No, sir. That's very unfair --

especially to your wife.

SHELDRAKE:

Yeah.

(shifting gears)

You know, Baxter, I envy you.

Bachelor -- all the dames you

want -- no headaches, no

complications --

BUD:

Yes, sir. That's the life, all right.

SHELDRAKE:

Put me down for Thursday again.

BUD:

Roger. And I'll get that other key.

Sheldrake exits. Bud takes the calendar out of the desk

drawer, makes an entry.

DISSOLVE TO:

BAXTER'S DESK CALENDAR

Again the leaves are flipping over, and again we see

Sheldrake's name in Bud's handwriting -- booked for the

following dates:
Monday, December 14, Thursday, December 17,

Monday, December 21, Thursday, December 24.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. SWITCHBOARD ROOM - DAY

Perched on top of the switchboard is a small decorated

Christmas tree, and the operators are dispensing holiday

greetings to all callers.

OPERATORS:

Consolidated Life -- Merry

Christmas -- I'll connect you --

Consolidated Life -- Merry

Christmas -- I'm ringing --

In the foreground, Sylvia is engaged in a private

conversation of her own.

SYLVIA:

(into mouthpiece)

Yeah? -- YEAH? -- Where? -- You

bet --

She tears off her headset, and turns to the other girls.

SYLVIA:

Somebody watch my line -- there's a

swinging party up on the nineteenth

floor --

She scoots out the door. The other girls immediately abandon

their posts, and dash after her.

INT. NINETEENTH FLOOR - DAY

It's a swinging party, all right. Nobody is working. Several

desks have been cleared and pushed together, and on top of

this improvised stage four female employees and Mr. Dobisch,

with his pants-legs rolled up, are doing a Rockette kick

routine to the tune of JINGLE BELLS. Employees are ringed

around the performers, some drinking out of paper cups,

others singing and clapping in rhythm.

One of the cubicles has been transformed into a bar, and it

is jammed with people. Mr. Kirkeby and Mr. Vanderhof are

pouring -- each has a couple of bottles of liquor in his

hands, and is emptying them into the open top of a water-

cooler.

But the stuff is flowing out as fast as it flows in --

everybody is in line with a paper cup waiting for a refill.

Bud comes shouldering his way out of the crowded cubicle,

holding aloft two paper cups filled with booze. Since his

promotion he has bought himself a new suit, dark flannel,

and with it he wears a white shirt with a pinned round

collar, and a foulard tie. He also has quite a glow on.

Detouring past necking couples, he heads in the direction of

the elevators.

The doors of Fran's elevator are just opening, and the

switchboard operators, led by Sylvia, come streaming out.

SYLVIA:

(to a colleague)

-- so I said to him: Never again! --

either get yourself a bigger car or

a smaller girl --

As they head for the party, they pass Bud, who is approaching

the elevator with the two drinks. Fran is just closing the

elevator doors.

BUD:

Miss Kubelik.

The doors slide open again, and Fran looks out. Instead of

the customary carnation in the lapel of her uniform, she

wears a sprig of holly.

BUD:

(holding out one of

the drinks)

Marry Christmas.

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