FIRST REAL JOB

There’s a short segment of my life that I realize I haven’t covered in my blogs. The memories are a little painful for me because my mother was very disappointed that I wanted to quit college and get a job. I finally convinced her that this was the best move for me at that time in my life. So I applied for a secretarial job at the Vanderbilt outpatient Mental Health Clinic and was hired a few days later.

I began work in June 1959 at the huge salary of $200/month, $25.00 of which went to Mother and Daddy for rent. Of course, that was a lot more money then than it is now, and I really had no expenses to speak of. Daddy drove Mother and me to work every day (in our one family car) and picked us up so I had no need for gas money. I thoroughly enjoyed the freedom and independence I felt from having my own money.

The work was not difficult and was certainly interesting. My main job was to type, file, make appointments, answer the phone, and check patients in. It sounds hard, but it wasn’t because there was another woman in the office who did the same things I did, except she was called the office manager; I was just a secretary. Most of the work came from the three social workers who took all of the case histories, etc. I typed up the histories from the notes that were made in the interviews and any later appointments. And that was the interesting part; my eyes were opened to the realities of life when I read what some of those people had been through.

My office was very close to the emergency room and at first, when an ambulance came in with sirens wailing, I would run to the window to see what was happening. I guess I expected to see blood and gore, but I can’t remember ever seeing that. It was usually suspected heart attacks or strokes or accident victims. This activity got old very quickly and after a few weeks, I scarcely paid any attention to it.

When I began work, I had no love interests, but I had made up my mind that I didn’t want to date any med students. I wanted a husband who would have reasonable hours and not be called out in the middle of the night. Actually, only two of them asked me out, but by that time I had met the genius and I couldn’t see past the stars in my eyes. Ironically, a few years later when we settled back in Nashville and he worked with IBM, there were many occasions when he had to work long hours. And he was called out in the middle of the night multiple times when important computers went down. So I had to adjust my ideas about marriage as all of us married folks must do from time to time. I still have to.

I worked for one year and then the genius and I married on June 18, 1960. I learned so much about “real life” that year that I’m sure I matured at a faster rate than if I had been in college. Additionally, I was able to finish my education later when I really appreciated it --- and in a unique way (playing tennis). So I’m grateful for those months and all worked out for the best.