ABSTRACT
Ready to conquer the world, I set out looking for a job in January 1951 armed with nothing but a sublime confidence, a patched list of credentials, and a meager résumé. I had no idea what to expect. At first I was nervous, finding myself in line with stinking strangers, pushing through chaotic offices, and fumbling for positions which in some cases had little in common with my uneven educational background. Then came the interviews, a daring process in which I found myself faced with scornful employers, or glared at by prying eyes that made my heart swing wildly between hope and fear.
