This is a list of courses I took at the Social Security Administration. I'm listing them here so that I can easily decide if I want to mention any of them in my book.
1962 May 21- June 15 RCA 501 Program. and Automatic Assembly
1963 November - December Basic Analysis Course
1967 February 27 - March 15 System 360 Programming Course #4
1967 April 10-25 System/360 Programming Course #5
1968 May 6-24 COBOL Programming Course #7
1969 January 20 to February 20 System/360 ALC Program. Course #16
1969 April 22 - May 13 Mid-Level Mgmt Development. Course #3
1969 October 20-29 Decision Logic Table Workshop
1970 January 7-14 Behavioral Foundations of Management
1971 November 1-17 Systems and the Analyst
1971 November 18-30 Systems Design and Implementation
1973 July 31- August 1 Supervisor's Labor Relations Workshop
1974 November 4-8 Data Base Concepts & Design Course #5
1975 April 2 An Appreciation of Statistical Sampling
1975 May 5- June 6 Fundamentals of Statistics
1975 October 6-9 Effective Project Management
1975 December Supervisors Institute on Personnel Mgmt
1976 February 9 Improving Organizational Performance
1976 May 3-6 TSO Concepts and Capabilities Course #4
1976 December 6-17 Intro to Congress and the Legislative Process
1979 February 12-27 Basic MARK-IV Course #3
1984 September 18 The Art of Influencing (DC)
1985 July 29 -August 2 Software Design for Managers
1985 December - January 1986 OPS Cross-Systems Briefings
1987 January 7 Computer Security/Privacy Awareness
1987 January 27 Cross-Systems Briefing
1987 March 10-12 Interpersonal Communication Skills
1988 June 6-9 Basic Project Officer (ADP) Training
1989? Software Improvement Mgmt Seminar
1989 October 25-26 Managing Office Automation
1990 September 18-21 ADP Task Order Contract Admin. (Tech)
Certificates
1970 Ten Year Government Service Certificate
1972 Triple Header Club Certificate for Bowling
1985 December Certified Data Professional (CDP)
1987 Certified Systems Professional (CSP)
1994 May Mensa Award for 25 continuous years of membership
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Monday, August 15, 2016
Chapter Four:... Claims Authorization Class
After I survived Social Security Orientation Class at Woodlawn, I was assigned to a Claims Authorization Class held in the Standard Oil Building in downtown Baltimore. This was a kind-of mini skyscraper, the front of which dropped off sharply from the front to the back. This meant that there was a deep and dangerous incline for automobiles to manipulate, especially in the Winter.
This was the Winter of 1960 and followed the very mild Winter of 1959. In fact, it was so mild in 1959, that the Baltimore Maintenance Department had sold all of their snow-removal equipment. We students, sitting ten stories up, were sometimes treated to a humorous sight, especially on one day when a sudden blizzard showed up around ten AM. A blanket of six or more inches of snow filled the streets in front and around the Standard Oil Building. What to d? No snow removal equipment.
They did what they thought was the right thing to do.. they brought over a fire truck, opened a hydrant and poured water down on the snow packed streets. This was a marvelous sight to see, because cars were still allowed to turn the corner from the front of the building to the back.. And did they slip! It was hilarious to see these cars skidding down the street from top to bottom. It looked like a lot of fun. Luckily, nobody was hurt, although some cars got a bit banged up. We students, mainly New Englanders, laughed and laughed.
The class we were attending was taught by a guy named Marvin K., a nice, funny guy who really did not want to teach the class. In spite of that, I think he was a great teacher.
The attendees, however, were a different story. One guy was the son of a famous General and was just trying different things to try to find out if he could do any of them. While most of us were trim and slim, he was fat and slick. He dropped out after just a couple of weeks.
Another student was an ex professor from a Vermont college. He had a definite theory about learning. As we did case studies, he would make up all kinds of erroneous results, feeling that his reviewer would let him know what he did wrong, and in that way, he would learn the correct way. This was ok as long as we had 100 % review of our case results. Some of his cases bypassed the review somehow, and certain beneficiaries found themselves with enormous monthly payments, some found themselves cut off from benefits. Hopefully, most of these bad cases were caught eventually.
The Professor was fired and when they emptied his desk, they found error slips by the hundreds.
A couple of our students were retired military men. They were very careful in their work and became excellent employees.
One of the ladies, came from Ashville, North Carolina and was a Mozart expert. She taught me some about Don Giovanni. Very cultured person. Unfortunately, she died shortly after the class from breast cancer.
A young college graduate was the best student; however, he got homesick for Alabama and left after a few weeks.
Among the few survivors were a couple of guys who became friends with me. Don Q and Jim C., both from Massachusetts. Our families remained friends for many years. There are some nice stories about these nice Irish guys that I will relate later.
Somehow, I managed to graduate from this class and get assigned as a certified Claims Authorizer for the Social Security Administration.
........................................................................................................................................
This was the Winter of 1960 and followed the very mild Winter of 1959. In fact, it was so mild in 1959, that the Baltimore Maintenance Department had sold all of their snow-removal equipment. We students, sitting ten stories up, were sometimes treated to a humorous sight, especially on one day when a sudden blizzard showed up around ten AM. A blanket of six or more inches of snow filled the streets in front and around the Standard Oil Building. What to d? No snow removal equipment.
They did what they thought was the right thing to do.. they brought over a fire truck, opened a hydrant and poured water down on the snow packed streets. This was a marvelous sight to see, because cars were still allowed to turn the corner from the front of the building to the back.. And did they slip! It was hilarious to see these cars skidding down the street from top to bottom. It looked like a lot of fun. Luckily, nobody was hurt, although some cars got a bit banged up. We students, mainly New Englanders, laughed and laughed.
The class we were attending was taught by a guy named Marvin K., a nice, funny guy who really did not want to teach the class. In spite of that, I think he was a great teacher.
The attendees, however, were a different story. One guy was the son of a famous General and was just trying different things to try to find out if he could do any of them. While most of us were trim and slim, he was fat and slick. He dropped out after just a couple of weeks.
Another student was an ex professor from a Vermont college. He had a definite theory about learning. As we did case studies, he would make up all kinds of erroneous results, feeling that his reviewer would let him know what he did wrong, and in that way, he would learn the correct way. This was ok as long as we had 100 % review of our case results. Some of his cases bypassed the review somehow, and certain beneficiaries found themselves with enormous monthly payments, some found themselves cut off from benefits. Hopefully, most of these bad cases were caught eventually.
The Professor was fired and when they emptied his desk, they found error slips by the hundreds.
A couple of our students were retired military men. They were very careful in their work and became excellent employees.
One of the ladies, came from Ashville, North Carolina and was a Mozart expert. She taught me some about Don Giovanni. Very cultured person. Unfortunately, she died shortly after the class from breast cancer.
A young college graduate was the best student; however, he got homesick for Alabama and left after a few weeks.
Among the few survivors were a couple of guys who became friends with me. Don Q and Jim C., both from Massachusetts. Our families remained friends for many years. There are some nice stories about these nice Irish guys that I will relate later.
Somehow, I managed to graduate from this class and get assigned as a certified Claims Authorizer for the Social Security Administration.
........................................................................................................................................
Thursday, August 11, 2016
Chapter Three.....What is This Thing Called Social Security?
When time came for me to report for duty at the new Woodlawn Headquarters for the Social Security Administration, we had gotten a little acclimated to our new surroundings. One night, our landlords suggested that we treat ourselves to the world famous Hausner's Restaurant. This was a place where every wall and nook (and cranny) was filled with paintings and Roman busts. There even was one Rembrandt, if I remember right. It was an amazing place and became our restaurant of choice whenever we wanted to celebrate a special occasion. We did not even mind the mile-long lines that had to managed. Mrs. Hausner liked Elaine right away and I think that she saved a larger than normal strawberry cream pie for her to take home.
However, our first set of driving instructions were: "Go to Eastern Avenue and follow it to Hollandtown. You can't miss it." Well, we did. Because "Hollandtown" was Baltimorese for "Highland Town," a mini city within a city. Hausner's was THE place to take your out-of-town visitors and remained a fascinating place to eat until a few years ago, when the City of Baltimore allowed it to be closed and auctioned off.
Bye the way, H.L. Mencken, who was known as the "Sage of Baltimore" spent most evenings in Hausner's "men only" bar, gazing at big-bosomed bare-bodied beauties, posed in provocative paintings enhanced by gigantic gilt frames.
Not long after we arrived, I did a trial run of the trolley-car system, which rolled downtown through black neighborhoods. Even then there was the famous Baltimore "white flight." I had spent a lot of time in Biloxi, Mississippi, and was not shocked at seeing "segregation," I did think it strange that some corners had water fountains labeled: "white" and "colored." I would have thought that Maryland was more "Northern" than that. And, of course, I was disgusted to see the shiny chrome faucets for "whites" contrasted with the rusty spouts for "colored."
I was glad to find out that the Social Security Administration was not segregated in any way. In the thirty five years that I worked there, I worked with people of all races and religions. We got along real well. However, black people who worked at (SSA) and who lived in the Woodlawn neighborhood, could not participate in the segregated Gwynn Oak Amusement Park. Not long after I went to work for SSA, the park was washed away in a storm and never reopened.
My first day of work at the Woodlawn office was exciting. We first did a tour of this massive building where 5,000 or more people where busy trying to keep track of every American's earnings, because the amount of money you earned governed how much money you would receive as a pension.
We next began an orientation class. We were each given an aspect of Social Insurance philosophy and how it governed our system. My assignment was to study and report on the German history of Social Security. I agonized about how I was going to give a ten minute report to a group of people who I had just met. Yes. Since I was slugged by a teacher when I was in the third grade, I had lived with an enormous degree of stage fright. By many inventive methods, I had managed to make it through High School, the US. Air Force and Boston University without having to quake and shake before teachers and my peers. However, this was my career goal and I had to overcome my fear a bit. And guess what? I did. And I didn't die. Still, it wasn't until my Toastmasters Club experiences that I felt comfortable speaking in public.
It amazed me to find out that one of my instructors also had very bad stage fright. He would talk to us, but it was an effort. He would stammer and stutter and turn bright red. But he did it. Incidentally, his first name was "Pink," and he was rather high up in SSA's hierarchy. If he could do it, I definitely could too.
However, our first set of driving instructions were: "Go to Eastern Avenue and follow it to Hollandtown. You can't miss it." Well, we did. Because "Hollandtown" was Baltimorese for "Highland Town," a mini city within a city. Hausner's was THE place to take your out-of-town visitors and remained a fascinating place to eat until a few years ago, when the City of Baltimore allowed it to be closed and auctioned off.
Bye the way, H.L. Mencken, who was known as the "Sage of Baltimore" spent most evenings in Hausner's "men only" bar, gazing at big-bosomed bare-bodied beauties, posed in provocative paintings enhanced by gigantic gilt frames.
Not long after we arrived, I did a trial run of the trolley-car system, which rolled downtown through black neighborhoods. Even then there was the famous Baltimore "white flight." I had spent a lot of time in Biloxi, Mississippi, and was not shocked at seeing "segregation," I did think it strange that some corners had water fountains labeled: "white" and "colored." I would have thought that Maryland was more "Northern" than that. And, of course, I was disgusted to see the shiny chrome faucets for "whites" contrasted with the rusty spouts for "colored."
I was glad to find out that the Social Security Administration was not segregated in any way. In the thirty five years that I worked there, I worked with people of all races and religions. We got along real well. However, black people who worked at (SSA) and who lived in the Woodlawn neighborhood, could not participate in the segregated Gwynn Oak Amusement Park. Not long after I went to work for SSA, the park was washed away in a storm and never reopened.
My first day of work at the Woodlawn office was exciting. We first did a tour of this massive building where 5,000 or more people where busy trying to keep track of every American's earnings, because the amount of money you earned governed how much money you would receive as a pension.
We next began an orientation class. We were each given an aspect of Social Insurance philosophy and how it governed our system. My assignment was to study and report on the German history of Social Security. I agonized about how I was going to give a ten minute report to a group of people who I had just met. Yes. Since I was slugged by a teacher when I was in the third grade, I had lived with an enormous degree of stage fright. By many inventive methods, I had managed to make it through High School, the US. Air Force and Boston University without having to quake and shake before teachers and my peers. However, this was my career goal and I had to overcome my fear a bit. And guess what? I did. And I didn't die. Still, it wasn't until my Toastmasters Club experiences that I felt comfortable speaking in public.
It amazed me to find out that one of my instructors also had very bad stage fright. He would talk to us, but it was an effort. He would stammer and stutter and turn bright red. But he did it. Incidentally, his first name was "Pink," and he was rather high up in SSA's hierarchy. If he could do it, I definitely could too.
Monday, August 1, 2016
Beginning Words
The Gypsy's Prediction
In the Spring of 1955, a Gypsy family installed itself in an empty store front directly across the street from Saint Anthony's French Canadian Catholic Church in New Bedford, Massachusetts. As Doris Langlois and her daughter, Elaine were leaving mass, they spotted the new neighbors and got curious.
They crossed the street and talked to one old lady who offered to read their palms and predict their future.
Doris and Elaine were modern women who did not believe in things like Gypsy prophesies, but they decided to try it, just for fun. Elaine's prediction was, of course, "predictable." She would meet a handsome young man, get married and live happily ever after. But Doris' prediction was not "predictable." The Gypsy told her that in six or seven years, she would be taking a long trip to someplace called Baltimore, where she would meet her first grandchild.
Elaine's sister was only two years old, and in seven years could not become a mother. Elaine had a boyfriend who was in the Air Force, stationed in Europe. He would not be home for two years, and they really had not decided if they wanted to get married. Besides, Doris and Elaine had no idea where Baltimore was. Somewhere down south, over the Mason Dixon Line. Elaine and her mother had a great laugh over this prediction, told some friends, and then forgot about it for a long time.
In the Spring of 1955, a Gypsy family installed itself in an empty store front directly across the street from Saint Anthony's French Canadian Catholic Church in New Bedford, Massachusetts. As Doris Langlois and her daughter, Elaine were leaving mass, they spotted the new neighbors and got curious.
They crossed the street and talked to one old lady who offered to read their palms and predict their future.
Doris and Elaine were modern women who did not believe in things like Gypsy prophesies, but they decided to try it, just for fun. Elaine's prediction was, of course, "predictable." She would meet a handsome young man, get married and live happily ever after. But Doris' prediction was not "predictable." The Gypsy told her that in six or seven years, she would be taking a long trip to someplace called Baltimore, where she would meet her first grandchild.
Elaine's sister was only two years old, and in seven years could not become a mother. Elaine had a boyfriend who was in the Air Force, stationed in Europe. He would not be home for two years, and they really had not decided if they wanted to get married. Besides, Doris and Elaine had no idea where Baltimore was. Somewhere down south, over the Mason Dixon Line. Elaine and her mother had a great laugh over this prediction, told some friends, and then forgot about it for a long time.
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Chapter Two: Trip to Baltimore
With our meager furniture and clothes packed in boxes and stored in an attached rented trailer, Elaine and I and Schatzie, our Parakeet set out on the 400 mile trip from Massachusetts to that magically sounding city of Baltimore, Maryland, and to work at the Social Security Administration.
I was very ignorant about Baltimore. I seemed to recall that two of my heroes had some kind of connection with that city. H. L. Mencken and Edgar Allen Poe. I also had some interesting adventures in Europe with a fellow Airman named Willie, who grew up in what he called the Baltimore Ghetto.
My wife, Elaine likes to tell the story that she and her mother had gotten their palms read in 1954 by a Gypsy encamped across from their church. The Gypsy lady told Elaine's mother that a few years from now, she would be visiting a city named Baltimore to see her new-born granddaughter. At the time, they knew that the Gypsy was making it up. (But, of course, it came true seven years later.)
After some minor car problems we broke down in Delaware and had to get help from a fellow traveler. Once on the road again we survived a flat tire and finally rattled across the Mason Dixon line and limped into the outskirts of Baltimore. We took shelter at a cinder block truck stop.
We had been told by Elaine's uncle that it was always hot in Maryland and we would not need warm clothes. We did not take any coats. So, we and our bird spent a lot of shivering time as snow flakes eased in through cracks in the cinder block walls.
I was able to use the room's telephone and a copy of the Baltimore Sun to pinpoint a prospective place to live. The first call turned out well. The owner said that others were interested, but if we wanted to, we could come and take a look at the offering. (I suspect that we were the only persons interested and our visit was to make sure that we were white. Were the times different then?)
The apartment was exactly what we were looking for and the price was right. We sealed the deal and then limped out to the nearest Ford dealership to get our car fixed. In it's present condition, we would have been restricted to public transportation, which didn't look too promising to me.
The Ford dealer was wonderful. He gave us a "loaner" to use while he fixed our car. He had no idea who we were, but when I told him I was going to work for Social Security, he bent over backwards to be nice to us. (Len Stoler?... ??)
We moved out of the motel and into our spacious and clean apartment. Life was good.
I was very ignorant about Baltimore. I seemed to recall that two of my heroes had some kind of connection with that city. H. L. Mencken and Edgar Allen Poe. I also had some interesting adventures in Europe with a fellow Airman named Willie, who grew up in what he called the Baltimore Ghetto.
My wife, Elaine likes to tell the story that she and her mother had gotten their palms read in 1954 by a Gypsy encamped across from their church. The Gypsy lady told Elaine's mother that a few years from now, she would be visiting a city named Baltimore to see her new-born granddaughter. At the time, they knew that the Gypsy was making it up. (But, of course, it came true seven years later.)
After some minor car problems we broke down in Delaware and had to get help from a fellow traveler. Once on the road again we survived a flat tire and finally rattled across the Mason Dixon line and limped into the outskirts of Baltimore. We took shelter at a cinder block truck stop.
We had been told by Elaine's uncle that it was always hot in Maryland and we would not need warm clothes. We did not take any coats. So, we and our bird spent a lot of shivering time as snow flakes eased in through cracks in the cinder block walls.
I was able to use the room's telephone and a copy of the Baltimore Sun to pinpoint a prospective place to live. The first call turned out well. The owner said that others were interested, but if we wanted to, we could come and take a look at the offering. (I suspect that we were the only persons interested and our visit was to make sure that we were white. Were the times different then?)
The apartment was exactly what we were looking for and the price was right. We sealed the deal and then limped out to the nearest Ford dealership to get our car fixed. In it's present condition, we would have been restricted to public transportation, which didn't look too promising to me.
The Ford dealer was wonderful. He gave us a "loaner" to use while he fixed our car. He had no idea who we were, but when I told him I was going to work for Social Security, he bent over backwards to be nice to us. (Len Stoler?... ??)
We moved out of the motel and into our spacious and clean apartment. Life was good.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Chapter One ... Why Baltimore?
Chapter one.. Why Baltimore?
The year was May 1959 and I was a Liberal Arts major at Boston University. I was married and my wife and I worked to supplement my small GI Bill income. Five days a week, I traveled about 120 miles roundtrip to Boston from our home in New Bedford, Massachusetts. At the end of every school day, and after I arrived home from my bus ride, I would work for five or six hours driving a taxi.
Now, as a young college student, I did not make much money at this job. The "old timers" bribed the dispatchers to give most of the jobs to them. I got what was left, which was not much. Luckily, my wife worked as a waitress, and made enough money to pay the rent and keep us in food.
So, it was time for me to think ahead. I did not want to work for a profit-making business, because I was an idealistic guy. I wanted to work in the Government, in some capacity that somehow helped people. I decided to take all of the Government tests that were offered at that time.
The Foreign Service Exam was a tough test. I passed the French and the German parts of the test. I also did well on all other parts but one that completely flummoxed me. It consisted of a series of topological maps and you were supposed to determine the appropriate country. The kicker was, there was no writing on any of the map features. Now.. how the hell was I going to figure that one out? I didn't.. I flubbed it, and with it my chance to serve in the State Department.
The Secret Service Exam was also tough, but I passed it with what was apparently a good score, because two agents offered me a job with them. However, after recording all of my life story, they left and as I happily started to leave, they came back and said that they had forgotten to ask me one question. "Were you ever ashamed of any job you have ever had?"
Dummy me... I said, "Yes." The prior year, I had been a "telemarketer" before that became a common word. I would sit in a room with a battery of telephones and the leader would each day tear a page out of the Boston telephone directory and hand it to one of us. We were then required to call everyone on that page and "sell" them booklets of "wonderful offers." The booklets sold for $5 and, if one used all of the coupons, one might save a dollar or so. It sounded good, but was really an early scam. My job, besides calling and "nailing" a sale, was to go to the location, deliver the product and get the money. I would be able to keep one dollar.
At the time, I had a car in Boston and gas prices were ridiculously low. However, I often got "stiffed" when people took a look at the coupon book.
One blind lady was very happy to get a booklet with a free lesson at a dance studio. This gave me a guilt trip. Here was someone to whom five dollars was a large amount of money. Now, she has a booklet of coupons which relate to places that, being blind, she could not travel to. (Times were different for blind folks in those day.)
The Secret Service guys said they were sorry but they could not hire someone who had ever been ashamed of a job they had.
The next test I took was administer by folks from the National Security Agency. I felt that perhaps that organization might be good for me because I had been a radio operator and a cryptographer during my four year Air Force tour. At that time I had a Crypto Security Clearance, which I believe was higher than Top Secret. I knew that my skills would be of use to the NSA. I aced the test.
The NCA agent shook my hand and welcomed me into his organization. He asked me how soon I could start work in Maryland. I told him that I still had a year's work to finish in order to get my bachelor's degree. This came as a great surprise. He thought that I had already graduated. I did not realize that as a person without a college degree, I was not supposed to be taking that test.
He still said that NSA wanted me. He handed me his business card with his name and telephone number on it. Richard Simmler. He told me, right after the dean hands you your diploma, call me at this number and we will arrange for you to start in your new job with us.
I felt wonderful. Now I did not have to worry about being out of work for any period of time after graduation.
Now, move ahead to June 1960. The Dean hands me my diploma and shakes my hand. I dash off to a telephone and dialed Mr. Semmler's number. "Who? Nobody by that name works here. You must have the wrong number." I spoke to supervisors and managers, all of whom said they never heard of Mr. Semmler.
What do I do now? Active job seeking began anew.
Air Force Commission? I spent a little time at the Springfield, Massachusetts Air Force Base, where I was treated regally with gourmet food and pitchers of delicious draft beer. That was nice, but everybody I interacted with seemed to act like children at a party. I said, "No thanks."
Long Haul Trucking Dispatcher? A major hauler offered me an internship with a "big future." I said, "Thanks, but no thanks."
Similar Jobs.... No, I still wanted to work for the Government. So, I decided to take the Federal Service Entrance examination and see what would pop up.
I took and passed the test and immediately got two job offers:
GS 7 Budget Analyst at Indianhead, Maryland. I wasn't too keen about working on budgets, but since it was offered I wanted to learn more about it. My wife's uncle was stationed at Indianhead during World War II, so we asked him about it. He said that Indianhead was near Washington D.C., and was a malarial "hellhole." So, we decided to forget about that job.
GS 7 Benefit Authorizer at the Social Security Administration in Baltimore, Maryland. The Social Security Act had been amended and more workers were needed. They actually required lawyers for the job, but quickly found out that lawyers did not want to take a cut in salary to work for the government. They then decided to open the job to people who had done investigative work. Since Ihad worked for a while as a "credit investigator for the Retail Credit organization, I qualified.
Two recruiters were dispatched to the Boston area and I was one of the persons interviewed for the job. I was asked two questions and I think they must have been pleased with my answers.
Question one: "What do you think of those Birds?" I always liked robins and blue jays, so I said: "They're great!"
Question two: "What do you think of those Colts?" Since I also liked horses, I again said;, "They're great!"
Mistakenly thinking that I knew they were talking about the Baltimore Orioles and the Baltimore Colts, they immediately shook my hand and hired me,.
So... after a long history of job hunting, I relaxed and helped my wife get our meager possessions and "Schatzie Bird" get ready for our trip below the Mason Dixon line.
The year was May 1959 and I was a Liberal Arts major at Boston University. I was married and my wife and I worked to supplement my small GI Bill income. Five days a week, I traveled about 120 miles roundtrip to Boston from our home in New Bedford, Massachusetts. At the end of every school day, and after I arrived home from my bus ride, I would work for five or six hours driving a taxi.
Now, as a young college student, I did not make much money at this job. The "old timers" bribed the dispatchers to give most of the jobs to them. I got what was left, which was not much. Luckily, my wife worked as a waitress, and made enough money to pay the rent and keep us in food.
So, it was time for me to think ahead. I did not want to work for a profit-making business, because I was an idealistic guy. I wanted to work in the Government, in some capacity that somehow helped people. I decided to take all of the Government tests that were offered at that time.
The Foreign Service Exam was a tough test. I passed the French and the German parts of the test. I also did well on all other parts but one that completely flummoxed me. It consisted of a series of topological maps and you were supposed to determine the appropriate country. The kicker was, there was no writing on any of the map features. Now.. how the hell was I going to figure that one out? I didn't.. I flubbed it, and with it my chance to serve in the State Department.
The Secret Service Exam was also tough, but I passed it with what was apparently a good score, because two agents offered me a job with them. However, after recording all of my life story, they left and as I happily started to leave, they came back and said that they had forgotten to ask me one question. "Were you ever ashamed of any job you have ever had?"
Dummy me... I said, "Yes." The prior year, I had been a "telemarketer" before that became a common word. I would sit in a room with a battery of telephones and the leader would each day tear a page out of the Boston telephone directory and hand it to one of us. We were then required to call everyone on that page and "sell" them booklets of "wonderful offers." The booklets sold for $5 and, if one used all of the coupons, one might save a dollar or so. It sounded good, but was really an early scam. My job, besides calling and "nailing" a sale, was to go to the location, deliver the product and get the money. I would be able to keep one dollar.
At the time, I had a car in Boston and gas prices were ridiculously low. However, I often got "stiffed" when people took a look at the coupon book.
One blind lady was very happy to get a booklet with a free lesson at a dance studio. This gave me a guilt trip. Here was someone to whom five dollars was a large amount of money. Now, she has a booklet of coupons which relate to places that, being blind, she could not travel to. (Times were different for blind folks in those day.)
The Secret Service guys said they were sorry but they could not hire someone who had ever been ashamed of a job they had.
The next test I took was administer by folks from the National Security Agency. I felt that perhaps that organization might be good for me because I had been a radio operator and a cryptographer during my four year Air Force tour. At that time I had a Crypto Security Clearance, which I believe was higher than Top Secret. I knew that my skills would be of use to the NSA. I aced the test.
The NCA agent shook my hand and welcomed me into his organization. He asked me how soon I could start work in Maryland. I told him that I still had a year's work to finish in order to get my bachelor's degree. This came as a great surprise. He thought that I had already graduated. I did not realize that as a person without a college degree, I was not supposed to be taking that test.
He still said that NSA wanted me. He handed me his business card with his name and telephone number on it. Richard Simmler. He told me, right after the dean hands you your diploma, call me at this number and we will arrange for you to start in your new job with us.
I felt wonderful. Now I did not have to worry about being out of work for any period of time after graduation.
Now, move ahead to June 1960. The Dean hands me my diploma and shakes my hand. I dash off to a telephone and dialed Mr. Semmler's number. "Who? Nobody by that name works here. You must have the wrong number." I spoke to supervisors and managers, all of whom said they never heard of Mr. Semmler.
What do I do now? Active job seeking began anew.
Air Force Commission? I spent a little time at the Springfield, Massachusetts Air Force Base, where I was treated regally with gourmet food and pitchers of delicious draft beer. That was nice, but everybody I interacted with seemed to act like children at a party. I said, "No thanks."
Long Haul Trucking Dispatcher? A major hauler offered me an internship with a "big future." I said, "Thanks, but no thanks."
Similar Jobs.... No, I still wanted to work for the Government. So, I decided to take the Federal Service Entrance examination and see what would pop up.
I took and passed the test and immediately got two job offers:
GS 7 Budget Analyst at Indianhead, Maryland. I wasn't too keen about working on budgets, but since it was offered I wanted to learn more about it. My wife's uncle was stationed at Indianhead during World War II, so we asked him about it. He said that Indianhead was near Washington D.C., and was a malarial "hellhole." So, we decided to forget about that job.
GS 7 Benefit Authorizer at the Social Security Administration in Baltimore, Maryland. The Social Security Act had been amended and more workers were needed. They actually required lawyers for the job, but quickly found out that lawyers did not want to take a cut in salary to work for the government. They then decided to open the job to people who had done investigative work. Since Ihad worked for a while as a "credit investigator for the Retail Credit organization, I qualified.
Two recruiters were dispatched to the Boston area and I was one of the persons interviewed for the job. I was asked two questions and I think they must have been pleased with my answers.
Question one: "What do you think of those Birds?" I always liked robins and blue jays, so I said: "They're great!"
Question two: "What do you think of those Colts?" Since I also liked horses, I again said;, "They're great!"
Mistakenly thinking that I knew they were talking about the Baltimore Orioles and the Baltimore Colts, they immediately shook my hand and hired me,.
So... after a long history of job hunting, I relaxed and helped my wife get our meager possessions and "Schatzie Bird" get ready for our trip below the Mason Dixon line.
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