Day 8

Day 8: Working for State Farm Insurance Co; keypunch pool; Louanne Boynton, Philly WC: 1708

The interview with State Farm was peculiar; I had been out of the military for a year. I applied for a computer operations job. The interviewer asked me some questions, designed to see how I would fit into their existing team. Then as the interview drew to a close, he said: “Well, this job you asked for.. well.. the men in that office tell a lot of jokes that a woman might now like, so it probably would not be what you want. We can offer you a data entry job, though, if you want it.” I was so empty pocketed, I had to have a job, any kind of job right away, so I took it. I was part of a typing, keypunch machine operating pool, much like a typing or steno pool. We were all women. Meanwhile the men in computer operations wore suits and made more money than we did. I was annoyed at the discrimination, given that in the military I had done the same job the men had done, and there had been no problem with joke telling. Some years later, a class action lawsuit was filed against State Farm on behalf of women who had systematically been denied jobs they were qualified for simply because they were women. Unfortunately, I was not able to join in that action because the specific range or time period did not include my hiring date, which fell just before the earliest date for inclusion. Dammit, I cursed when I read that I could not be included due to a matter of days, I was really angry. That was the first blatant incident of discrimination or differential treatment I was to experience. I had no idea there would be many more in the years ahead. Had I known, it would have led me to be more activist than I was.
There was one young blonde woman I came to refer to as “American Beauty Rose”, after the name of a best selling rose plant. She so epitomized what most American women were: wife, and soon to be mother. She was single - mindedly exploring every means possible to ensure that she got pregnant, and talked about all the strategies every day as we all had lunch. It got to be rather boring, and I longed for some intellectual chat. As the days wore on, it got to me more and more, that I had to get out of there before I stagnated completely. I had nothing at all in common with these women, other than being a woman as well. Their goals centered on family, children, and home. I had other dreams, dreams of being highly educated, of writing books or painting, of travel, of adventure. I was out of place there, but had little resources to use to find a new place which better suited me. I was a falcon living in a chicken house. It frightened and puzzled the chickens and frustrated the falcon.
So one day I just quit.. plain and simple. Then I took the Snelling & Snelling job, which opened my world up a little. It was a commission job, but it was at least a bit more enterprising than the State Farm data entry job. To change the subject a bit, during these years I was dining on a lot of salads and cottage cheese, and kept my weight under verygood control. Eating was not more than necessary sustenance; I did not crave foods nor have a big appetite for snacks. My weight was never over 105. (How I wish I could get back to that number today.. I am now 35 pounds more than that.. and it is terribly difficult to drop even five pounds.)
Let me tell you about Louanne Boynton. She grew up in Corona, California, a town I had never heard of until I met her. Her family was a close one, and she had a younger sister and a brother I believe. She took me to visit them once, taking the wide open freeway 91 from Orange County to Corona. I really loved that wide, multilane highway.. I had never seen any such road with so little cars on it as on that Saturday we drove it. Louanne kept her apartment dark, with the shades and curtains closed most of the time. I rather liked it. Her furninshings were plush and with the dim lighting, appeared very relaxing and calm, even luxurious. On weekends we slept late, reveling in the exquisite sleep. Waking around 10 or so, we had toast and eggs, then decided what to do for the day. I liked to read, and loved to do craftsy things also, like knitting or crocheting. We watched movies and news stories, of course, and shopped for clothes and shoes as all young women do. I recall that Louanne liked pants and loose fitting bateau neck tops, with simple jewelry. She was so dramatic looking she did not really need the adornment of too much jewelry.
As for what the rest of my family was doing during this time, well, my mother was divorcing my father, and my younger sisters were growing up, getting boyfriends, getting married, and some getting a start at a career. My brother Larry was learning more about the aircraft business, working for Lockheed, Northrup, McDonnell Douglas, and Boeing. He became an aircraft maintenance chief after his service in the Navy ended. My sister Carol was hired by a savings and loan company, and became a branch office Vice President. Another sister, Margaret, was a waitress saving all her tips in a drawer in her bureau at home, and raising her daughter Heidi. My sister Elizabeth was married and was getting pregnant more than once. And my redhead sister Kay went into the real estate loan business. She was doing well, being aggressive and excellent at promotion and sales. I had not yet met my great love and was simply enjoying my single status and freedom.
While I was in Philadelphia, I had developed a style of dress that was my own. There, I discovered Villager and Lady Bug fashions, little jackets and skirts, with small print cotton blouses with rounded collars and buttoned cuffs. I liked separates, things that could be pulled on easily and out I went. With a classic pair of heels or loafers, I was very well dressed. I suppose my taste in fashions began in the days when I was a young girl, putting pennies in my loafers and smoothing vaseline into the leather to deepen the color and condition the skin. My favorite shoes were maroon or oxblood or a two tone pump. Black was of course always classic. In Philly, I saw the film “Midnight Cowboy”, a breakthrough film based on a young man determined to make money as a gigolo, with his friend Rizzo, an ill derelict of the big city of New York. My friend Esther Doyle, of Lebanese ancestry, had great fun enjoying the small shops and sidewalk restaurants of South Philly. I had an Italian boyfriend, Joseph Napolitano, who lived with his mother in a small apartment not far from my own rowhome residence. And of course I was dating the Irishman, John P. McMenemy.
For awhile, I had an evening job, working in the credit department at Strawbridge & Clothiers in downtown Philly. I worked on the upstairs floor, in the credit and accounts department. It was the place where all the store clerks called to when a customer wanted to add a purchase to their store credit account. The credit dept. was multiple long rows of files, arranged alphabetically, of credit accounts. All of us who worked there sat on rolling stools; I would take a call, get the customers name and roll down the aisle to the section for that customers last name, by the first letter of the alphabet. If their last name was Smith, I would to the “S” section.. and look up the card filed for them by their first and last name. I would check to see if they had gone over their limit, and what their balance was. If the purchase was within the limit, then I would tell the clerk to go ahead with the charge. It was particularly funny rolling about the aisles on that stool when I had my foot and leg in a cast from having broken my ankle.. it was awkward and clunked on the wooden floor as I pulled and rolled my way along, back and forth, back and forth. The dozens of phones there rang continually. I worked the evening shift, from 6 till midnight.. and took the late bus home to the apartment in Roxbury, outside of Philly. One night I was so tired that I fell asleep on the bus and missed my stop. I woke to find myself the only person on the bus, at the end of its route, and far from my neighborhood. The driver had not noticed me back in the bus, but took me back to my stop. It was a bit strange, at past one in the morning on a dark and foggy night in the winter. I suppose I took some chances as I was young and did not yet know what dangers might pop up in such a situation. At the end of the shift, all of us had to present our handbags for search as we exited the door of the store on the first floor side street exit. Evidently, many retail stores have a noticeable level of theft by the store employees. The downtown department stores were always festive in the wintertime, with holiday decorations and window displays. The entire downtown had street lights, trees draped with holiday lighting and then there was the open air ice skating rink as well. One of the great joys of the city was its cheerful and colorful holiday decorations and lights. But for the fiercesome cold some days in the winter, the brutal winds sweeping from the Atlantic ocean, it would have been a good place to call home. It was that cold that drove me back to California/