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| Salander, Nils, CC BY 4.0 Wikimedia Commons |
How I miss the clacking of typewriter keys in the claustrophobic office where I worked in 1979. Yes, that was the dark ages before the Internet and personal computers.
As loan clerks we slaved over hot typewriters shuffling paper files around on our desks trying to look busy. The constant keyboard noise made our supervisor think we were hard at work. Most of the time we weren't.
My office co-conspirator was a gorgeous blonde with plans to move beyond the limiting duties of a file clerk. Our daily tribute to the company was singing in the breakroom, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose . . ." while we sipped coffee. When we weren't singing we were reading the want ads and looking for new jobs.
I was going through some difficulties. I'd closed my hair salon after my partner bailed. Now, she was suing me for "her half" of the business, a joke, since we had three mortgages and no equity. Clearly, she was going through life's hardships, too, a messy divorce. For the first time in her life, she was trying to support herself. Me, too. Although my divorce was years behind me.
Working at the mortgage company, Trish (the dish) and I would clack away on our typewriters writing personal notes whenever we got bored with our files, which was often. Surprisingly, we were the most productive clerks in the department with loads of files cleared so they could be sold to investors.
Going through old things this morning I found a couple of our silly notes and they made me laugh. What good times those were, despite the low salary, the grueling rush-hour traffic, and the abysmal bull pen where we spent our youthful days. Still, we laughed, went to lunch together, complained about the free coffee and tried to earn our keep until we moved on with our careers.
Ah, the carefree days of youth. Here's a song that reminds me of the times: Me and Bobby McGee.
