 What is Orison's main reason for going to floor seven?
Mr. Wanji returned to Orison her letters of reference. Beside them was a double-decked "In" and "Out" basket. "Here's where you'll do your nine-to-five, honey," Mr. Wanji said. This laissez-faire policy of Taft Bank's might explain why she'd been selected from the Treasury Department's secretarial pool to apply for work here, she thought. Orison switched off her microphone at noon, marked her place in the book and took the elevator down to the ground floor. As though they were members of a ballet-troupe, these gentlemen whipped off their hats with a single motion as Orison stepped aboard the elevator. Orison nodded bemused acknowledgment of their gesture, and got off in the lobby vowing never to put a penny into this curiousest of banks. Orison sighed, finished her tuna salad on whole-wheat, then went back upstairs to her lonely desk and her microphone. She switched off the microphone, put on her light coat, and rode downstairs in an elevator filled with earmuffed, silent, hat-clasping gentlemen. And what the William Howard Taft National Bank and Trust Company needs is a joint raid by forces of the U.S. Treasury Department and the American Psychiatric Association. Her boss in Washington had told her that this job of hers, spying on Taft Bank from within, might prove dangerous. Home in her apartment, Orison set the notes of her first day's observations in order. Item: the top eight floors of the Taft Bank Building seemed to be off-limits to all personnel not wearing earmuffs. Orison slipped between the sheets at eleven-thirty. Orison transferred her head to the pillow to her left. "Of a sort," Monitor J-12 agreed. Orison briefed her pillow on the Earmuffs, on her task of reading to a microphone, and on the generally mimsy tone of the William Howard Taft National Bank and Trust Company. Orison flung the shoe and the pillow under her bed, and resolved to write Washington for permission to make her future reports by registered mail. At ten o'clock the next morning, reading page four of the current Wall Street Journal , Orison was interrupted by the click of a pair of leather heels. "It's nothing," Orison said, switching off the microphone. "Reading papers and fairy-tales into this microphone is nothing any reasonably astute sixth-grader couldn't do as well," Orison said. "I'd love to," Orison said, half expecting an orchestra to march, playing, from the elevator.
 To find out what else is happening at the bank
 To figure out what escudo green meant  To have a good reason to get fired  To find out what else is happening at the bank  To give Dink a message