"It's not the big things but the little things about women's liberation that are throwing the entire country into a tailspin.

For example, there is a growing movement in the country among secretaries to no longer go out and get coffee for their bosses.

"That isn't my job," the more militant ladies are telling the men in the office.

A few years ago if a secretary said this, what she really meant was that she was quitting. But these days bosses do not know how to deal with the problem. It isn't the coffee but the breakdown in authority that has most executives terribly worried.

Simpson, who works for a large conglomerate and has responsibility for the success of one of its companies, told me all about it at lunch.

"It's a junge out there," he said, referring to his office building. What's the sense of bring an executive if your secretary won't get you a cup of coffee when you need it?"

"What are secretaries for?" I said.

"When I was a junior executive my secretary not only went for coffee but served it in a cup, with a sugar bowl and a cream pitcher on a silver tray."

"Did she put the sugar in the coffee for you?" I asked, getting terribly excited.

"Of course, she did," he said. "One teaspoon, and just a dash of cream."

"Go on," I said, holding my breath.

"Did I tell you about the Danish?"

"No," I said, gripping his arm. "Tell me about the danish."

"Well, sometimes she would bring me a cheese danish and I would want a cherry one instead. So I sent her down to exchange it. She always apologized for her gaffe and tried to make it up to me all day long."

"She should have," I told him. "A good secretary should know when her boss is in mood for a cheese danish or a cherry danish. What else did she do for you?"

"There were days when I decided not to go for lunch, so all I did was press the intercom button and tell her I wanted a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich on rye with mayonnaise on the side and a dill pickle and a large ice tea."

"And she went?"

"Like a flash. And she didn't just hand it to me in a bag. She put the sandwich on a plate, poured the ice tea in a glass and brought it all in with a napkin."

"What about the pickle" My heart was beating twice as fast as usual.

"She had a separate little plate for the pickle."

"Boy, those were the days. They don't make women like that any more. Tell me about the afternoon."

Simpson smiled. "In the afternoon, around 3, without even asking, she brought me another cup of coffee, put it quietly on my desk and tiptoed out of the room."

"Oh, my gosh," I cried. "I wish I could have watched."

"It isn't like that any more," he said bitterly. "Now I have to bring up my own coffee and danish in the morning, and if I want lunch I have to go down for it myself."

"But you're the boss!" I cried.

"Tell that to the women's libbers. All they think about is themselves. You know what the secretaries in my office have done? They have a coffee machine and the last person who uses the machine has to make a new pot coffee, no matter what his title in the company is."

"It makes you sick," I said. "You could be making millions for the company and instead you're making coffee. Have you ever thought of firming a secretary because she refused to get you a danish?"

"I did last year," he replied. "And she's suing me for $250,000."