Publisher:
Ebury Press: 2011
Next, I applied to work in the accounts department, a sealed room where wom en operated clattering machines like enormous typewriters. After I had cata strophically and erroneously applied all the wrong information to several t rolley loads of documents and lumbered the staff with weeks of corrective w ork, I was shown the door by a tight-lipped manageress. I knew what was com ing. Over the relentless, furious din of machinery, I lip-read the familiar words: "Lacks the necessary aptitude." Pam Ayres' early childhood in Stanford in the Vale was idyllic in many ways, and typical of that experie...
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