THIS COULD BE THE START OF SOMETHING NEW

If your mom offers to help, allow her to. My mom helped me land my first job after graduating from college.
This story tells how that came about.

THIS COULD BE THE START OF SOMETHING BIG

At the time of my college graduation, my mother worked at the Whitehall Club, a lower Manhattan luncheon establishment that catered to maritime industry executives. She asked, “Would you mind if I asked one of the members if his company has any job openings?” 

“Would I mind?  I’d love it.”

One person she knew was a Vice President of Fairbanks, Morse and Co., a manufacturer of platform scales and diesel engines. A few days later, Joseph Bouffard, Sales Manger, Diesel Engine Department, interviewed me. To my utter delight and astonishment, he hired me as an inside sales proposal engineer, reporting to one of the nicest people I even knew, Mr. Thompson, a man in his early sixties who treated me like a son. I was his only assistant. He was in charge of stationary engine sales.

Another group of five or six engineers handled marine engine sales. Fairbanks, Morse diesel engines had a great reputation as they had powered most of this country’s submarines during the war. The proposal engineers were all veterans of submarine service, an elite group of men in my opinion.

My job required me to dictate letters using Edison wax cylinders, which a pool of typists would transcribe. Considered high-tech in its day, it seems hilariously old fashioned now. The typing pool supervisor sought me out after she listened to my first recording.

“Are you Joe, the new hire?”

“Yes.”

“You have a nice voice but you do not know how to dictate a business letter. Sit down and I’ll teach you.” Within weeks, I excelled at this task. If only I could have learned engineering as readily.           

   My Fairbanks, Morse monthly salary of $175 paled in comparison to the $330 some of my fellow graduates received when they joined GE and entered their two-year training program. This disparity did not weigh heavily on me. It sufficed that I had a job with a large corporation that offered opportunities for advancement. In all likelihood, Mr. Boufard indicated, I’d spend up to six-months training at their Beloit, Wisconsin diesel engine factory in preparation for a field sales position.

   Three months later, under the patient tutoring of Mr. Thompson, my performance merited a $25 raise. Three months later, the company boosted me up another twenty five buckaroos. On April 1, 1951, Mr. Boufard granted me another $25 raise, but hedged on his promise to send me to Beloit for factory training. That soured my disposition. Without such training, there would no possibility for me to become a field sales engineer.  

On that Friday evening, while trudging down the street toward the Hudson Tubes subway entrance, I read a sign in an employment agency window advertising the need for a mechanical engineer. My next vignette describes what happened on that eventful night. I no longer needed mom's help to find a job.    

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