Heaven Protect

By Martha Duffy

THE GIRLS IN THE OFFICE by JACK OLSEN 447 pages. Simon & Schuster. $7.95.

This is a new entry in the crowded field of pop sociology -- tape-recorder division. Jack Olsen has gathered the confessions of 15 women who work in a Manhattan firm he calls "the Company." The idea is a timely one since one positive result of Women's Liberation is a quickened curiosity about what kind of life lies behind labels like "secretary" or "executive assistant."

Unfortunately Olsen never seems to have decided whether he wanted to write a serious book or a slick one. So much of the book is devoted to sour sexual confidences that one is forced to the conclusion that the author's eye was really trained on the bestseller list.

Worse, he does not trust his own material, which finally makes it impossible for anyone else to do so. Though the introduction refers to the girls' "eloquent" voices, they all talk alike to the point of using the same expressions. Two or three call New York the "Big Apple" or the "City of Finalists" and equate comfortable working conditions with being treated like "Farouk."

Nobody Works. Farouk, indeed. Not even Charlotte Ford. That reference is an indication of how dated Olsen's girls are. None is endowed with exceptional talent, energy or beauty. What they have in common is a mystical, misplaced conviction that New York City is some kind of catalyst that will bring them undefined personal fulfillment, and that the office is the spot where the miracle will occur. Nobody works in this book; they just go to the office.

Where do '50s aspirations go when the '50s disappear? One may as well ask where all the poodles go when Yorkshires become the fashion. A snowfall on Second Avenue during a college visit is apparently enough to send some girls to the city. Why they stay can be a matter of tortuous rationalization. "I consciously seek out weird and interesting places -- gay bars, lesbian bars," says one who has been at it 18 years.

"Could you do that in Springfield, Mo.?"

The question is pathetic. The girls quickly learn that the Big Apple can turn into hard cider. Several drink heavily; they hate the men they work for and resent being thought of as sexual objects. But God knows men are sexual objects to them. Says one: "Single men must all live in caves."

Olsen's cross section contains no married women although they form a large part of most office staffs. His girls are the trapped ones, whose fantasies are too strong for Springfield, but who never discovered what they can do or even what they actually want in life.

One of them concludes, "If I lived on a desert, I'd collect sand." The sad thing is that, psychically speaking, she does and she is.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.