I AWAKE EARLY with pains in my stomach. I can't really tell whether it is part of my losing battle with the flu or worry over preparations for briefing Bill Brock.Although the special trade representative-designate is already well versed in trade issues from his days in the Senate, my job is to bring him up to date on new issues and to organize my STR transition team to give Brock a series of detailed briefings before his confirmation hearings.

I leave the house at 7 a.m. for the Metropolitan Club to have breakfast with John Lehman, Reagan's next secretary of the Navy. John and I discuss Defense and State Department appointments, both made and anticipated, the DOD budget process and the problable Reagan administration position on several weapons systems.

We leave and walk together to the transition office on M Street for the daily 9 a.m. Timmons staff meeting. Bill Timmons is deputy director of the transition and in charge of all the teams in every department and agency. At the meeting we discuss the question of ongoing contact between our teams and the White House after the Inauguaration next Tuesday. During the staff meeting I slip Elizabeth Dole a resume on someone for her to consider for her new White House Public Liaison position.

Meeting over, I return to my office to find havoc. Bonnie Brewer, my secretary, scheduler, confidant and gate keeper, says I'm 70 calls behind and there are three people waiting to see me. The morning passes with a series of meetings and phone calls. Lunch is at Lion D'or with a businessman who wants to know my plans after the Inauguration. Would I be interested in representing his company? I said that I'd firmly decided not to accept a government post but that I didn't know exactly what I was going to do on the outside.

Back at the office, Bonnie has pictures from my Monday night dinner at the F Street Club with cabinet members and congressman to honor the 22 team captains who worked for me during the transition. At dinner Mac Baldrige, the new secretary of Commerce, had toasted the teams' efforts, saying that their work had given him a three month head start and was worth $250,000 - $500,000 on the open market.

The afternoon is a series of meetings and phone calls then an erratic ride to Dulles to catch a plane to Phoenix. On the plane I try to write my speech but the man in the next seat spots some transition letterhead and trys to convince me that he should be the next secretary of the Interior. He wouldn't stop talking. I then preceed to get very sick, the flu bug attacking in earnest this time, and I spend the last hour of the flight trying to keep myself together. Thursday

Phoenix is warm but I feel awful and want to stay in bed. The speech before the Electronic Industries Association winter meeting is scheduled for 9:30 a.m. After finally getting to bed at 3, I'm awakened at 7 by a call from a Washington reporter. It's 9 his time so he's at work. He ask what I know about the delay in the confirmation hearing for Ray Donovan as secretary of labor. Abruptly, very abruptly, I say I don't know anything I'd tell him and hang up.

The speech apparently goes well. I discuss the transition process and key issues I see arising early in the administration. Afterward a local station wants an interview for their 12 o'clock news. I agree reluctantly because I need to lie down. Their first question, live, is what do I know about the hostage situation and had I discussed it with the President-elect that morning. I answer as politely as I can that I don't know anything specific, that I have nothing to do with the hostages and that I see the president-elect about once a month, if I am lucky. He persists, then finally, in frustration, asks me about the weather.

I spend the remainder of the afternoon in my room on the phone. Several job seekers somehow find out I am trying to rest and decide to attack while I am flat on my back. I begin to worry whether I should call a doctor and stay the night or fly back to D.C. I finally decide to leave Phoenix at midnight and fly all night. Someone on the plane recognizes me from my noontime TV fiasco and sure enough wants a job. Friday

I'm met at the airport and go directly to a breakfast meeting at the Madison Hotel. My friends promptly tell me that I look like death warmed over. I return home, shower and change and rush back downtown for a meeting with an ambassador.

Lunch is with a newspaper reporter who wants my views on the transition. I tell him that I think it has accomplished all it set out to do -- so it's a success. But I also feel that the transition caused some of its own problems by raising false expectations on the timing of the selection of the cabinet.

Lunch was bearable, considering my condition, but I had to leave early to give another speech before a seminar of businessmen at the Georgetown Institute for Strategic Studies. By now I'm beginning to fade and the speech is not as good as I'd like. After questions and answers it's back to transition headquarters.

The afternoon goes quickly. Bonnie says I'm now 100 calls behind. Some of the callers are getting surly. I'm afraid it's becoming a losing battle.

I leave at 7 for W. Clement Stone's Georgetown Club party. It's a mob scene. I head home to bed, turn the phone off and sleep for 14 hours. Saturday

I get up early to review briefing materials for Brock's Monday confirmation hearing. At 10 o'clock, a potential client comes to the house to talk about his company and its need for Washington representation. I had promised my wife a quiet lunch, but the telephone starts ringing.

Before I realize it it's 3 o'clock and I have to catch a plane to Miami for an early morning speech before the National Association of Manufacturers convention. I'm supposed to be met at the airport but no one is there. I waste over two hours trying to make arrangements. One bright spot, no calls from job seekers. Monday

The last full day of the transition. I have a 7:30 breakfast at the University Club with a deserving job applicant. I agree to make a series of calls for him. I return to transition headquarters for the final Timmons staff meeting. I have mixed emotions -- it's been fun, though tiring. I'll miss daily contact with my transition colleagues but I won't miss the phone calls.

I call the new cabinet appointees in my area of responsibility to see if there is anything else we can do for them. Secretary of the Treasury Regan is already operating at full steam. Secretary of Transportation Lewis has practically finished his sub-cabinet appointments. Baldrige has his game plan firmly in mind. Ray Donovan's waiting for final Senate action, but he's ready. Brock has just finished his "love feast" confirmation hearing.

We need to pack up all our records. Some materials go to the White House, other materials to the Reagan Library at the Hoover Institute. Still other personal records -- my copies of the final transition reports -- would go to my office if I could find the time to rent one. Anything not out of transition headquarters by midnight is subject to inspection under the Freedom of Information Act. That's a real incentive to clean everything up.

The rest of the day is more meetings, more phone calls. An angry businessman calls to say outgoing National Highway Traffic Safety Administration head Joan Claybrook struck again -- approving new regulations in the final hours -- and could I help? It's late and there is no one to answer my calls for information. Everyone's home pressing their tuxedos.

At 7, I leave for one of four cocktail receptions I'm scheduled to attend. The traffic is terrible and I'm late. Bill Timmons has a party at the F Street Club and everyone is there, including job seekers. My applicant list is three pages long and growing. After today others will have to take over the Anderson Placement Agency. Tuesday

Inauguration Day. It's finally arrived. I had gone to bed late but awoke early. I put the coffee pot on and dictated a series of memos to the new White House personnel folks on behalf of my list of job seekers. It takes almost three hours and now I'm running late for the swearing in.

The day is beautiful, the ceremonies moving. They're right. Reagan is an unsurpassed communicator. It's an essential skill for leading the country in the next four years.

Then it's off to the Teamsters Headquarters to watch the start of the parade. I had acted as liaison with the Teamsters during transition.Since the parade's late we leave early and head for the first of many cocktail parties.

At the 5 o'clock party the bar is a madhouse. The biggest problem of the day is determining when to put on my tux. Two more cocktail receptions and a private dinner are scheduled before the ball at the Kennedy Center. I hope my stomach and liver can hold out.

The ball is hard work. The event has been oversold. The fire marshal won't let us in. We finally manage to get through the stage entrance just in time to see and hear the new president and first lady. The ball is too crowded to dance, too loud to talk and the line for champagne to long. We hit one afterball party and finally arrive home about 3. It's then that I realize I have an 8 o'clock breakfast with another job seeker.