Tuesday, 4 April 1978

Jack hesitated for a moments considering whether or not he should leave the queue.   He had been standing in line for more than an hour, in a queue almost one hundred metres long, extending almost to the corner of Bourke and Russell Streets.

Jack felt out of place amid the queue.   Apart from Jack, the oldest person in the line, was a man in his mid to late thirties, everyone else were in their teens or early twenties.   Also, Jack knew that he had little chance of being hired, the ad. had asked for, “A man or woman, young or old, to work in the evenings as a waiter or waitress, No experience needed.”

Apart from the middle-aged man, whose dress-suit implied that he’d had years of experience that were not needed, the crowd was composed of jeans and T-shirt clad youngsters who were probably all chasing their first job, But, even if the middle-aged man did not get the job, Jack was unlikely to be hired in preference to

all of the teenagers.   Jack had no more experience at the job than they did, while they had youth on their side.   Also they could be hired at the junior rate.

But although he had little chance of being hired, Jack didn’t like to leave the queue, if there was any chance at all.   As the queue slowly began to move forward, so that at last Jack could see the entrance to the Bunker Beer House, Jack made up his mind that he would stay in the lines and go through with the interview.   He didn’t see what other choice he really had; he had only been after one other interview in the last week.

Almost all of the vacancies advertised in the newspapers were under the professional columns, so Jack could not afford to pass up even the slimmest chance of getting employed.

The Bunker Beer House was set in the basement of a dress shop, and was entered by way of the steepest escalator that Jack had ever seen.   It was necessary to hold on to the handrail for dear life while descending.

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