The Interview

At the Demobilization Centre, after the usual round of medical inspection, return of service equipment, and issue of allowances and civilian clothing, I had been interviewed by an officer whose job was to advise on careers. On learning that I had a science degree and varied experience in engineering technology, he expressed the opinion that I would have no difficulty in finding a good civilian job. Industry was reorganizing itself for post - war production and there was already an urgent demand for qualified technologists, especially in the field of electronics, which was my special interest. I had been very much encouraged by this, as I had made a point of keeping up with new trends and developments by borrowing books through the Central Library System, and by subscribing to various technical journals and magazines, so I felt quite confident of my ability to hold down a good job. He had given me a letter of introduction to the Higher Appointments Office in Tavistock Square, London, and suggested that I call on them as soon as I had settled myself in "digs" and had enjoyed a short holiday...

Shortly after my return, I visited the Appointments Office, where I was interviewed by two courteous, impersonal men who questioned me closely on my academic background, service career and experience in industry. I explained that after graduating I had worked for two years as a Communication Engineer for the Standard Oil Company at their Aruba Refinery, earning enough to pay for postgraduate study in England. At the end of the interview they told me that I would be notified of any vacancies suitable to my experience and qualifications. Two weeks later I received a letter from the Appointments Office, together with a list of three firms, each of which had vacancies for qualified Communication Engineers. I promptly wrote to each one, stating my qualifications and experience, and soon received very encouraging replies, each with an invitation to an interview. Everything was working very smoothly and I felt on top of the world.

I was nervous as I stood in front of the Head Office in Mayfair; this firm had a high international reputation and the thought of being associated with it added to my excitement. Anyway, I reasoned, this was the first of the interviews, and if I failed here there were still two chances remaining. The uniformed attendant politely opened the large doors for me, and as I approached the receptionist's desk she smiled quite pleasantly.

"Good morning." Her brows were raised in polite enquiry.

"Good morning," I replied, "My name is Braithwaite. I am here for an interview with Mr. Symonds."

I had taken a great deal of care with my appearance that morning. I was wearing my best suit with the fight shirt and tie and pocket handkerchief; my shoes were smartly polished, my teeth were well brushed and I was wearing my best smile--all this had passed the very critical inspection of Mr. and Mrs. Belmont with whom I lived. I might even say that I was quite proud of my appearance. Yet the receptionist's smile suddenly disappeared. She reached for a large diary and consulted it as if to verify my statement, then she picked up the telephone and, cupping her hand around the mouthpiece as if for greater privacy, spoke rapidly into it, watching me stealthily the while.

"Will you come this way？" She set off down a wide corridor, her back straight and stiff with a disapproval which was echoed in the tap-tap of her high heels.

At the end of the corridor we entered an automatic lift; the girl maintained a silent hostility and avoided looking at me. At the second floor we stepped out into a passage on to which several rooms opened; pausing briefly outside one of them she said "In there," and quickly retreated to the lift. I knocked on the door and entered a spacious room where four men were seated at a large table.

A．Y

B．N

C．NG