Regional Office Health Department, Wellington, 1972-1974
I enjoyed working as the typist in charge of three others in my regional health job. Sometimes we didn't have much work - election times and Christmas times - and we would potter around typing personal letters, playing charades, or looking out the window. Because we were typists and needed good lighting, government typing rooms were always situated in sunny areas. This particular typing room faced the street. Education House was in Upper Willis Street (yes, yes, I know the building was Education House and I worked for a the Regional Health office, but go figure...).
We looked out of the window quite a lot. Our building faced Lupp Motors, run by Sybil Lupp, who in her day had been one of the top car racers in New Zealand. She now ran a workshop for high-end cars. She was fairly mature by this time but she still dressed classy going into her workshop before donning overalls.
Every Friday, I typed a list of Wellington people who were drug-addicts, allowed to stay drug addicts, and who picked up their drugs from certain chemist shops in the capital. Most of them were elderly Chinese, addicted to opium.
A staff meeting was called and all staff were told we were moving buildings. From Educaton House we were going to the Bowen State Building in Bowen Street. The building stood next to Broadcasting House which was an ultra-modern build with several floors underground where members of Parliament and other high-end people could use as a bunker if there was some sort of disaster. I used to think Broadcasting House was fabulous to look at. Maybe nowadays it would be termed as mid-century modern, and quite average to look at, but at the time it was so unusual. This building, despite lots of protests from the general public, was torn down. Shame.
We typists trooped into Bowen State Building to await the arrival of our furniture. The room was a bit dusty in the corners as it had been empty for a little while, but it had a pleasant outlook over Bowen Street and the sun streamed in. The rotor blades of a helicopter could be heard overhead and we all rushed to the window, oooh-ing and ahh-ing. Helicopters were a rare sight indeed.
Two days after we moved into the typing room, it was discovered there was a nest of fleas in a corner.
"Yeeeeh, I'm off." Roxy shot out the door. We others ran out after her, at only an ever-so-slightly slower pace. We got the afternoon off while the flea-killing folk cleaned the room.
But ... unfortunately the biggest and only flea I had ever met followed me home via my clothes. I was too squeamish to kill it and the thing transferred itself from clothing to bed-sheets to shower and back to clothing and bed-sheets again. I itched and scrubbed and rubbed and squealed and saw that big fat flea multiple times over the next two days and nights. I was haunted by the creature. It was getting huge on my blood.
Finally on the third night, I could stand it no more. I killed it. Blood (my blood) squeeched out from its body over my bed sheets, and I wasn't sorry one bit.
My working time in the building was a few years before dehumidifers became really popular. One of the doctors overheard us talking about them -
"A saucer of water on the window-sill works just as good," he said. We tried it .... It worked for us (psychological, maybe?)
But I was sweeping an eye over every PSOC (Public Service Official Circular) that came out on Thursdays. Much as I liked working at Health Regional Office, nothing was going to stop me from getting to my goal of Supervising Typist-in-Charge, Education Head Office. Only about five more grades to go, yay!
And then came a position I was suitable for... Typist-in-Charge, Education Head Office. It wasn't Mrs Rowley's job but a lower graded one. In charge of six typists, and one step higher than I was at Health Regional Office. I would once more be under the tutoring of Mrs Rowley. It would be like returning home.
I got the job.
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