The Apartment Monologues

A Manhattan insurance clerk tries to rise in his company by letting its executives use his apartment for trysts, but complications and a romance of his own ensue.

On November 1st, 1959, the population of New York City was 8,042,783. If you laid all these people end to end, figuring an average height of five feet six and a half inches, they would reach from Times Square to the outskirts of Karachi, Pakistan. I know facts like this because I work for an insurance company - Consolidated Life of New York. We're one of the top five companies in the country. Our home office has 31,259 employees, which is more than the entire population of uhh… Natchez, Mississippi. I work on the 19th floor. Ordinary Policy Department, Premium Accounting Division, Section W, desk number 861.

Mr. Sheldrake, I've got good news for you. All your troubles are over. I'm going to take Miss Kubelik off your hands. The plain fact is, Mr. Sheldrake, that I love her. I haven't told her yet, but I thought you should be the first to know. After all, you don't really want her, and I do, and although it may sound presumptuous, she needs somebody like me. So I think it would be the thing all around -- solution-wise.

For that matter, you were wrong about me, too. What you said about those who take and those who get took? Well, Mr. Sheldrake wasn't using me. I was using him. Last month I was at desk 861 on the 19th floor. Now I'm on the 27th floor, paneled office, three windows, so it all worked out fine. We're both getting what we want.