Brit for a bit

[MATILDA]

Fall 1973...finally a worthwhile student, but oops...can't seem to balance university classes and all things TWI.

Even tho I had As going in all my classes at the long-standing catholic university, I (in my infinite wisdom..lol)elected NOT to take any of my finals and consequently flunked out. Yikes-o-rama! Now what?

My butt surely would be in a sling once the grades arrived to my folks' home...hmmm...at least I could get a job before the post arrived in time to really put a damper on that Christmas.

"Yes, I flunked out, BUT I got a job!" was my rationale. (lolololol since I am a former college teacher and mom of college kids)

I made an appointment at a very respected employment agency in downtown Chicago. I interviewed with my designated "rep," took typing tests and filled out questionaires, applications, and assessment things. For what? To be sent out, repeatedly, as a secretary, receptionist, and general office serf. Did not they know whom be I was? lololol

My job became finding a job...the endless interview. I wasn't gonna sign on anywhere til I gots proper dough offered.......lol....such righteousness.

After a week, I was a known commodity in the employment agency, trusted, and an amusing character in search of a paycheck. Strangely enuf, with christmas time upon them, they hired me one day to reception their joint whilst they went about high-rise office party hopping.

No problem. Sat in a big chair...very little bizness...but I did have opportunity to browse thru the listings to see what kind of jobs were really in there that I thought I could do. (lol...this is a true story.) I sent a couple people out to jobs they never would have been sent out for and, (I was told later) one got the position. lol.

Well, I was the proverbial "raw talent" find, but no bona fide deegreeds to substantiate me, so I could see why I was relegated to clerkage and coffeemaker opportunities. But, wait...what's this?

Prestigious law firm receptionist/switchboard operator. Prepared work package & benefits with parking privilege for well-groomed, articulate, female. MUST BE BRITISH.

The pay was near triple what other talky grunts would make, so I figured...."tally ho, guv," and made my appointment post haste.

No fool was me. Next morning, before I set out to snag the jobbage, I did some reeeesearch...lol. You must know that this was before the dawn of pc's and any googling option...my chosen source of reference was on the back shelves of the big room in my parent's house...I don't want to dazzle you, BUT it was a complete set of the deluxe, white faux leather bound, World Book Encyclopedia...at my finger tips, thankyouverymuch.

E. I took down the D-E-F volume. Looked up...what else? England.

I hadda hurry, so I dint read everything, but I did catalog a few easy mental grabs to take with me on the ride down the Dan Ryan Expressway.

It's an island. They were allies. Lots of sheep. Monarchy. The blitz, and for some unknown reason, a busy place called Kensington Station. Gotta go.

Dressed in the only mini-skirt suit I had (tweed doncha know) and grabbed an umbrella. Why? Well, I was british, for goodness sake, and they always carried one. I watched the frickin' Avengers. Tup, tup, cheerio...come along now, Mrs. Peel. Off to the convalescent center where my mother worked...there the switchboard operator gave me a crash course on the one ringy dingy.

Running review in my head from every limey movie I ever saw...

telly = television, flat = apartment, marconi, or wireless = radio, lift = elevator

A quid, crown, farthing and supercalifragilistic moment later and I was on my way to the big buck land of legal affrontary.

Parked underground, made my way past the Art Institute, Monroe Bldg., and Marshall Field's until I found the firm next to Abercrombie & Fitch. Natch.

Walked like I had a niblet suppository, approached elevator -scratch that- the lift and perfunctorily depressed the going-up button with the tip of my 'brella. Doors open unto a leather-bound, brass-tacked, mahagony laden barristery. (lol...look it up...under b.)

On time (yea verily, a few minutes way-time early), I was greeted, announced, and delivered to the pre-screening Big Nurse of the worldly famous firm....the executive secretary.

If one can even imagine this, I spoke as little and to the point as I could manage...almost soft-spoken, dangerously refined. Oh yeah, baby!

"Yes, Dad was a naval officer, and mum had roots that go way back. We travelled. Saw a lot of Kensington Station, I'll tell you that..." and then, succinctly, a polite answer to what all else until...

A few minutes into the grilling, she stopped abruptly, pushing my application file away from her on the massive desk top. "Oh, bother...the jig's up," thinks me.

Her eyes raised up past the rim of her readers.

"I think that will suffice," she said, pink lips pursed. She stood up and, throwing protocol to the wind, reached her hand over the paperwork, past the desk pen set and name plate and touched the underside of my chin with some kind of grandmummily gesture....and off she went for the namesake Big Boss.

I thought I might have a spot of pea in my pants, guv. Dare I think it? "I'm in!"

Back she was in a trice, followed by two vested suits. The first was the prez, nice enuf. The second,

like Cmdr. McBragg personnified, came direct to me, took my hand, shaking it as he blustered, "...so good to meet someone from the old sod! Kensington, is it?"

Small turned to teeny, and my voice barely squeeked a quaintly britoneous reply, "Quite."

Questions were simply polite...answers monosyllabic. Most cordial. But I saw the twinkle in their eyes.

Nevermind that I was a tweeded, blonde sweetie...

I politely gave the agency's card to them and made my celtic way out the door.

Giggly butterflies. From a phonebooth, I called to check in with my agency rep.

Dragnet music in my head.

"We received a call from the law firm on State Street. It seems they are quite prepared to offer you the employment package. Can you come up so we can confirm the offer?"

I poked my head out the hinged door, looking for arresting agents...none.

"Coo...maybe there's a business in this, afterall," I gloated silently.

[Shellon]

[shazdancer]

:mellow: Oh my :) Snicker :D Teehee Guffaw!

Quite a lot of cheek, that.

And you took this job? And kept it up for how long??

Really funny stuff.

[QuietThinker]

You must have been really chuffed!

[MATILDA]

:mellow: Oh my :) Snicker :D Teehee Guffaw!

Quite a lot of cheek, that.

And you took this job? And kept it up for how long??

Really funny stuff.

Shaz..."chuffed."..at least 69 points on a triple space...

I told the agency I would take the job with the proviso I tell them I was an inland southside Chicagoan...however, I was amenable to speaking with whatever accent they saw fit. I thought carrying on would ultimately not be conducive to good work relations (or honest ones) if, say, I was to become friends with anyone.

Altho my rep thought it all very titillating in some way, she felt responsible somehow; that for me to come clean would cast a pall on them and their credibility. Buggers.

What I did end up doing at that point in the early adventures of ~, was to take employ at a very large, successful company, owned and presidented by a believer. But that's a story in itself.

Better than that even, was after six months working for Mooncotch, I hit the road as an in-state WOW, assigned to the Illinois capital.

Me and my Volvo (that's v-o-l-v-o), sheets, books, pillows and flatware, off to find the Wizard in the land o' lincoln.

The job I did there even impressed me, for real, and it took near a year before we parted (ahem) ways.

:)

Edited February 23, 2007 by MATILDA