Working in a sub branch of the local library, notification was received that I was to attend a one-day workshop. This would educate me if, perhaps at some time, there was a problem with the electricity to the premises and I could fix it.
Arriving at the local technical college saw me included in a class of young men who obviously were working in the building industry. Duck billed caps, bum cracks at the top of their jeans and high vis shirts were to the fore. From the outset I felt at a disadvantage in my boring blouse and slacks. Perhaps I should have worn a singlet and shorts.
The instructor launched into words which included amps, volts and the like. My companions seemed to understand the lingo and nodded knowingly. I didn’t have a clue, and when it came to a written exam, the man at the helm quietly gave me little clues to get me through the situation.
Towards the end of the day, we were told that we were going home with a gift. Each of us would receive the makings for an extension cord which we would assemble. That’s something handy, I thought. Maybe the day would end happily after all. A length of plastic covered wire was produced, about three metres in length, together with a plug and sheath, all accompanied by a Stanley knife. Everyone set to with speed and dexterity, quickly producing the end result.
I cut into the long cord, revealing the three wires within, also covered in different coloured plastics. Unfortunately I had cut through those wires, so needed to start again. Shaking with nerves, I did it time after time, and the initial cord got shorter and shorter. My companions were ready to leave, but had to wait for me to finish. I fumbled and continued to cut. I could hear mumbling and shuffflings as the boys watched my efforts.
The instructor said that he was going to commence locking up and away he went. The boys quietly departed as well. By this time I had attached the plug and was labouring away with the sheath end. I was the only one left in the classroom. Then one of the boys returned to retrieve his cap. He quietly took my cord and knife, quickly put it all together and handed it back with a grin. I fell in love with him instantly, but unfortunately have never again seen my saviour to this day.
I took home my cord, although I have never needed an eighteen inch extension. Luckily neither have I had to attend an electrical breakdown at work.
Arriving at the local technical college saw me included in a class of young men who obviously were working in the building industry. Duck billed caps, bum cracks at the top of their jeans and high vis shirts were to the fore. From the outset I felt at a disadvantage in my boring blouse and slacks. Perhaps I should have worn a singlet and shorts.
The instructor launched into words which included amps, volts and the like. My companions seemed to understand the lingo and nodded knowingly. I didn’t have a clue, and when it came to a written exam, the man at the helm quietly gave me little clues to get me through the situation.
Towards the end of the day, we were told that we were going home with a gift. Each of us would receive the makings for an extension cord which we would assemble. That’s something handy, I thought. Maybe the day would end happily after all. A length of plastic covered wire was produced, about three metres in length, together with a plug and sheath, all accompanied by a Stanley knife. Everyone set to with speed and dexterity, quickly producing the end result.
I cut into the long cord, revealing the three wires within, also covered in different coloured plastics. Unfortunately I had cut through those wires, so needed to start again. Shaking with nerves, I did it time after time, and the initial cord got shorter and shorter. My companions were ready to leave, but had to wait for me to finish. I fumbled and continued to cut. I could hear mumbling and shuffflings as the boys watched my efforts.
The instructor said that he was going to commence locking up and away he went. The boys quietly departed as well. By this time I had attached the plug and was labouring away with the sheath end. I was the only one left in the classroom. Then one of the boys returned to retrieve his cap. He quietly took my cord and knife, quickly put it all together and handed it back with a grin. I fell in love with him instantly, but unfortunately have never again seen my saviour to this day.
I took home my cord, although I have never needed an eighteen inch extension. Luckily neither have I had to attend an electrical breakdown at work.