Being a career girl in the motor industry in the 1980s was like being a pink flamingo on a cattle ranch: exotic, awkward and fairly useless a lot of the time. I guess that everyone's first real job is an adventure, and mine certainly was....
The story begins one dark morning in September. It was dark 'cos I was sleeping on a friend's sofa in North London, and had no idea how long it would take to get to work. Too long as it turned out. I arrived half an hour late in green tights - blame the darkness again. Was very impressed with the plush offices though. Was less impressed when told that I would be working somewhere else. At the sharp end. Where they actually build the cars. On a massive manufacturing site where there would be 59,999 men and me. Okay not strictly true, but I was apparently the first female office trainee on site. This caused some consternation before I arrived. Seemingly the guys in the office were given a little pep talk about manners and language, and all topless calendars were discreetly secreted away in bottom drawers.
Yet when I finally met my colleagues, I found them pleasant, warm and welcoming. They were mostly in their early 30s with mortgages and young families. What they made of me, I cannot imagine: a naive clueless 21 year old girl who wore black eye liner and ill-fitting suits, who still had the confidence of youth and was ready to conquer the world. My job was actually really interesting, I learned all about mass-production, working conditions in factories, how to use computers, and was involved in the early days of introducing robots onto production lines to improve productivity.
Often I had to go down and have a look see, and some of those visits have left indelible memories.... I was involved in a last ditch effort to save an old foundry on the site. It was like something from Dickensian London. The heat, the smells, the shiny sweating faces of the working men, the semi-darkness lit up from time to time by the laval glow of molten metal as it poured into moulds, and the endless noise of grinding machinery. I literally visited weeks before it was closed down.
Then there was the day I went to look at the car assembly line. I'd have probably got a more subdued reception in Mountjoy! My manager walked and I tottered through the door to the trim line - this is where stuff like carpets and door handles are put on the cars. It was very labour intensive in those days, and I'm talking thousands of men, but very little machinery, so not that noisy. Heads began to turn as entered. For a few seconds there was quiet, and then this enormous cheer rang out, and it was taken up by every worker in the place. I swear they had never seen a woman before. Then they picked up anything to hand, and started banging and stamping their feet, it was like a baying mob. Funnily enough I was not afraid, just stunned and more than a little embarrassed. We took the short route across the factory floor, and needless to say I was never brought there again!
Luckily for me, work was not only for paying the bills, but was also a time for banter and chat and fun. Friday lunchtimes were sacrosanct: the whole office, including the management, headed down to the local pub. Drink driving was something you did after a downing a whole bottle of whisky - a few pints at lunch time didn't count in the early 80s. 'Course I was up for it. But then one day we arrived at our local, and the day's attraction was a stripper. I bet my colleagues knew about this, but they weren't admitting anything. Anyway I insisted that we all sit in the beer garden, on our own obviously and, much to my surprise, they meekly complied....but there were a lot of trips to the bar and the Gents that day.
Lunchtime was also when I was introduced to the 80s running boom. Most of the guys in the office regularly headed down to the local park for a run. Anxious to be one of the 'lads' I volunteered to join in. Not being built for running had its consequences. A punk band called Sham 69 had a hit with "Nice Legs, Shame about the Face". This refrain was reversed by the kids in the local school whenever I ran past....
I don't actually remember the day I moved to work in head office. But I do remember the day I left the company: I hosted a leaving party, and some of the guys from my first year turned up. I was so happy to see them, thanks to their support and friendship, moving from college to work was easy for me, and perhaps I had left some sort of impression with them as well.
Well I was wrong, Angel actually filled ten bin bags full of stuff. These are now being stored in every room in the house except hers, while I work out what to do with them. Here is her new desk and chair and, fair dues, she made them herself! I'd heard so many IKEA horror stories about missing bits and incomprehensible instructions, but that hasn't been our experience at all. Anyway one thing she found during the big clearout was a pocket book of silly jokes. Now I like silly jokes, they don't offend anyone, so you never feel guilty about enjoying them! Here's three anyway: 
