Unfinshed Business, by M.N.

UNFINISHED BUSINESS
So here I’m reporting on the various jobs I worked at after I finished training as a secretary. Never really used the shorthand much, hardly ever, so even though it was Pitman I learned, it didn’t do me much good. Bookkeeping was useful in some of my jobs, typing I was best at, getting to ninety words a minute before I even left business school. That skill has never left me….my first computer used to get confused and end up a half line behind me!
My first job was at North West Purchasing Limited (NWPL) in Edmonton, and this would be 1941 I guess, after the Yanks came into the war…..no, I think that’s wrong, it would have to be 1942, because wasn’t Pearl Harbour Dec 7/1941? Correct me if I’m wrong, guys! Anyway, the job entailed minor odds and ends of typing, but mostly I was a courier….I had a US Army car at my disposal, plus driver. Can’t remember her name, but she annoyed me no end, because she constantly picked her teeth, I mean, unceasingly! Isn’t it funny what sticks in your mind? NWPL was a purchasing agency for the goods and products the US Army needed for gouging the Alaska Highway out of the wilderness, in case they needed a supply route for trucks if the Japs took the war into North America. (via Alaska). So morning and afternoon, I delivered purchase orders to various agencies serving the US forces, big companies who quickly established themselves in Edmonton in order to be in on the action, or closer to it, I should say. I got tired of such a mindless job after a while, I probably worked there about a year.
Then I applied at the American Base itself, since I liked the Yanks just fine, they were at least movers and shakers. And they paid better than comparable Canadian firms. Until the acceptance came through, I worked for a month or two at a couple of fill-in jobs, one for an insurance agency; that was long enough to tell me insurance and I would never get along. Also worked at a magazine subscription agency who needed superlative typing speed and accuracy; they practically got down on bended knee when I told them I was leaving, promising me the world in advances. Blah, didn’t like that either. So I was relieved when the competition for the job at the base was resolved, and I was hired as a civilian payroll clerk. Me, who never liked arithmetic, math, geometry, algebra, ever, ever…became a payroll clerk. We had a whole department, with thousands of employees up and down the extent of the whole Alaska Highway. And there I was, for 4-1/2 years…in fact, I worked for the Yanks until 2 weeks before Linda was born! I loved my job, our payroll department had ½ of the Officers’ Club building on the airbase in Edmonton….each morning as we came to work, we had to trek through the Club to get to our desks, and each morning, we’d all put a nickel, dime or whatever into one of the one-armed bandits resting there. Hit the jackpot once, I remember, and there were coins all over the floor! The job was very exacting! That suited me just fine, I liked "exacting", still do….one time I remember most of the staff, well, 4 or 5 of us I guess, worked until 2:30 in the morning trying to find ONE PENNY! I achieved my moment of fame when I was the one that found it, then we could all go home, Mission Accomplished.
The boss of the payroll department was one Sergeant Charlie Sanford, from Deland, Florida. He was one TOUGH cookie to work for, let me tell you. But I quickly learned that if you worked hard and as efficiently as you could, he would deal you out a good measure of respect. My desk was right across from his, so I had his ugly mug in front of me all the time….actually he was a really homely guy, but once you got to know him, a prince of a person. He lived off the base, with his wife, in an apartment somewhere near the base. We became good friends before the war came to an end and he was de-mobbed back to the States. In fact, years later we visited them a coupla times in Deland! They had one son, eventually, must’ve been about Linda’s age, because she and he became pen pals and remained so for years and years….I can’t remember whether they ever met in person or not, did you, Linda?
One transfer took place while I worked for the Americans, and that was to Dawson Creek, B.C., where I worked in the supply warehouse with all the GI’s. I told you about that in the "boyfriends" post I think. I was only there for 6 months, as the war was drawing to a close.
But back in Edmonton, as the war wound down, staff was gradually let go, but not me! Not that I was trying to hang onto a good, well-paying job, I just didn’t get terminated! At the end , like in 1948, three years after the war ended, people…..I was doing FIVE different jobs, remnants of jobs, of course, but still 5 different areas, even cost accounting; I had lots of opportunities to use whatever skills I had accumulated by that time. I did the hiring, the firing, ran the department called Civilian Personnel, got the American civilians manning the closed bases up the line their orders and transport back to the States….I can’t even remember all the things I had to do. I suppose that’s when my "bossiness" started. When I got my final release two weeks before Linda arrived, it was accompanied by commendations from the Commanding General of the whole North West Service Command, I still have the letter in my stuff somewhere.
Those years were not all work, mind you, we had lots of fun too, in 1946 I met Dad (future post, people), followed by marriage a year later. Like I told you, I had a thing about dating co-workers, just didn’t do it, so my social life was tied up elsewhere. We, Doug and I, attended various functions at the Officers’ Club on the base, I remember well a masquerade party where everybody dressed up as something, and I ended up playing the piano for a very drunken group of fliers and administrators until the wee hours of the morning. Actually, that happened more than once, every party ended the same way; neither of us got drunk, as such….more than I can say for the rest of our American friends.
A coupla of things come to mind about work at the airbase, we sometimes ate in the cafeteria at lunchtime with other civilian employees in various departments, a scattering of GI’s and officers, ate there on occasion too, when they got tired of the mess hall food. Occasionally, we’d catch a bus and go to cafes and restaurants in the vicinity of the airbase, we often ate at the White Spot on the corner of 97th Street and 111 Avenue, where the burgers and fries were delicious. Our office was right beside the open tarmac where the jets warmed up, and sometimes you couldn’t hear yourself think the racket was so intense…..hey, maybe that’s where I got my major hearing defect! The whine of those jet engines, ugh, I can still remember it. One night, No. 2 hangar caught fire, and burnt right to the ground, a huge conflagration that could be seen all over Edmonton, despite the best efforts of the fire department, I think they got the planes out OK, but skillions of records were lost in the upstairs offices spanning the hangar. I worked in that hangar for months before that happened, de-classifying army-restricted stuff.
Another time, an aircraft was trying to land and couldn’t get his wheels down, he had to circle around the airspace for a long time to use up his fuel before pancaking on a runway. That was exciting for us, we all left the offices and watched when the pilot made the landing, pretty rough, but he made it, the plane then swirled around in a circle, wrecked the dragging wing completely. But the crew
were all OK, and it didn’t catch fire. Some of the pilots there were absolute dare-devils; I remember one guy who had seen aircraft action in the Pacific, had suffered horrible burns over his whole face, and ended up with no face at all. Plastic surgeons had to re-build his features, so he actually had a plastic face…..really ugly to look at, they weren’t very good sculptors, methinks. His buddies always had to keep a weather eye out for him, because if they were partying this fellow usually got plastered, and then he’d want to pick a fight with somebody. So the friends had to prevent this, because one punch in the face and all the surgeons’ work would be for nothing.
Sometimes, the girls in the office in the office would get a chance for a flip, usually to Great Falls AFB, where we would invade the PX and buy perfume, nylons, wartime-restricted stuff that was hard to get. Didn’t really have to go there to get it, as the pilots were back and forth all the time, and would buy us anything we wanted them to pick up for us. Other times, we’d just go up on a flight and fly around the city, out as far as the Fort or Devon or some other outlying towns, I don’t know what for, maybe they were training flights, or maybe they were just using up USAF gas. This really didn’t happen very often, mostly when the CO wasn’t around, the boys were more inclined to play. I remember one plane I flew in, the old PBY, the Flying Duck; great fun, we went out as far as Edson.
This account is again getting TOO LONG! I’ll save the jobs I had after we got married and had some family, to another time . None of them were as exciting as working for the U.S. forces, but then, there was a WAR on, and you eventually got the picture of how devastating war is…..many of us grew up pretty fast in the days of 1939 to 1945.