This is a true story and here we go..
I was working in a small town, in an office whose headquarters was located in the Capitol. Occasionally I had to go to the Capitol to attend to some office work or the other. I could not afford to stay in hotels, as my salary was meager at that time, so I was staying in the office in the nights, using the office tables as my bed. It was very hot during summer and, during such visits in summer I was sleeping in the room of the Managing Director, which was air-conditioned.
Though such stay was unauthorized, I was managing, often at the mercy of security.
I had started my career as a stenographer and with in few months of my service, I was promoted to the position of personal secretary to the Managing Director. He was a very tough guy, totally dedicated to the official work and ignoring his own family, a confirmed workaholic and a workhorse. I was looked upon enviously by my colleagues because of my official closeness to the Managing Director, resulting in my contacts at high places. I felt I was highly elevated with exuberance with my position, but it didn't last long. In a course of time, I had to forego my family life even on festival holidays due to dictations and typing-sixteen hours a day. The charm of life was totally extinguished for me, and I was looking for opportunities elsewhere.
Suddenly, as a sigh of relief and also to my disappointment, the Managing Director died of a stroke. Though the news appeared in headlines in daily papers praising meritorious service rendered by him to the institution, he was soon forgotten. Shortly after, I got a further promotion and was posted in a town far away from the capitol.
During one of my such visits, after a day’s hard work, I went into his room, put on the air-conditioner and got into a slumber. I think I had gone into a sound sleep. I woke up with a sound of a thud by my side. In spite of the air-conditioner running, I was heavily sweating and to my surprise I saw the Managing Director was in his seat, deeply engrossed with his papers. He called me for dictation and I had taken the matter in my short handbook. He instructed for its immediate typing as he has to be away to attend a conference. I followed his instructions and typed it immediately on the letterhead. He signed the letter and left the office in a hurry.
I woke up in the morning and to my shock I saw the letter typed by me and signed by him, a signature on the letterhead long after his death with a postscript "How dare you to sleep in my room!".