It was the late 1970s, I was 21 and had just graduated from university somewhat unexpectedly after the exam resits, so I was spared the usual 'milk round' of interviews and instead had to seek out a job on my own. I had landed an interview in a town which although reasonably nearby, still required two rail journeys. I arrived in good time as the buses were less frequent during the day and so had to sit in reception for a while. It was an old fashioned factory, even then; all metal framed panels to waist height and frosted glass above that to separate the offices.
Eventually, however, I was collected and taken in to the interview with the management. After a reasonable period of grilling, we took a break for the inevitable factory tour, accompanied by the most junior of the interviewers and then resumed conversation after a coffee and pastry. They informed me that they would be happy to offer me the job as long as my references checked out and so the only thing left to do was a fairly straightforward medical check. I thanked them all profusely and was led away by my tour guide.
We went back through the factory to the Occupational Health office where I was handed over to that receptionist who said to take a seat and wait for Mrs Brown to become free. My guide left and I sat perusing the various magazines and leaflets on the low table. After only a few minutes a man with a bandaged hand came down the corridor in front of me, from of a door at the far end. He spoke to the receptionist and then left by the door through which I had entered. A few moments later the same door at the end of the corridor opened and a lady in a white coat stepped out, she glanced at the notes in her hand and then looked up and said
"Mr Smith?"
I rose to my and feet and she continued,
"In here, please."
As I walked the few yards down the corridor we were able to size each other up; I saw a perfectly average 5ft 8in lady, with short dark hair and wearing a white medical coat which was longer than the skirt I assumed she was wearing and over the top of the buttons I could see a plain white blouse with the top button only undone. She looked to be in her early forties and average build, not unattractive but not the seductress these sort of stories usually imagine, just a perfectly ordinary lady-next-door. She had a friendly air and seemed very pleasant to deal with. I don't know what assessment she made, but I assume she saw the thin, 5ft 10in, 21 year old, with short black hair looking slightly uncomfortable in the dark blue, striped 3-piece suit, which passed for smart but fashionable at the time.
I reached the door, smiled nervously and she ushered me in, closing it behind me.
"So, you've been for an interview, then, have you?" she asked.
"Er, yes." I muttered, for I was, in truth, a very shy youthful 21 year old.
While all my friends at uni had been out partying and having girlfriends, I had never really succeeded on that front. Although I had a few friends who were girls from the ski club, there were never any actual girlfriends.
"How did it go?" She went on,
"Pretty well, I think. At least they said they would offer me the job."
"Did they really? Well, we'd better not find anything wrong to upset that, had we?"
"Well, I hope not"
"I doubt it, you look pretty fit to me. Take a seat and we'll get the paperwork sorted out."
Then we ran through the usual sort of questions, Date of Birth, did I smoke, take regular exercise, any history of heart disease in the family, were my parents still alive, etc. All of which was filled into a large pink and white form. When she reached the back page, she folded it over and said,
"Just some measurements now. If you'd like to slip off your jacket and shoes and then roll your sleeve up."
I bent over to undo my laces and pull my shoes off, then stood up to get the jacket off.
"Stand on the scales, please, and stand up straight."
Waiting until the needle stopped, she said "10 stone almost exactly, is that about usual?"
"Yes", I said, "Never varies much, no matter how much I eat of what." I replied.
"Oh, enjoy that while it lasts, one day it'll stop being like that that and you'll have to either work at keeping it there or just accept getting fatter."
"Right, back straight while we do the height"
She lowered the stick onto the top of my head.
