From:  http://growingyoungereachday.wordpress.com 
GUIDE TO HIRING WOMEN    
I dont usually copy and paste other peoples blogs but this one is worth every effort and quite the read.
Enjoy!

New post on I choose how I will spend the rest of my life

6943 by judithhb A friend copied this and passed it on to me as he thought I might get a laugh from reading it. I hope you will too. This purports to be from the July 1943 issue of Mass Transportation Magazine written for male supervisors during the Second World War. "Eleven Tips on Getting More Efficiency Out of Women Employees There's no longer any question whether transit companies should hire women for jobs formerly held by men. The draft and manpower shortage has settled that point. The important things now are to select the most efficient women available and how to use them to the best advantage. Here are eleven helpful tips on the subject from western properties: 1. If you can get them, pick young married women. They have these advantages, according to the reports of western companies: they usually have more of a sense of responsibility than do their unmarried sisters; they're less likely to be flirtatious; as a rule, they need the work or they wouldn't be doing it — maybe a sick husband or one who's in the army; they still have the pep and interest to work hard and to deal with the public efficiently. 2. When you have to use older women, try to get ones who have worked outside the home at some time in their lives. Most transportation companies have found that older women who have never contacted the public, have a hard time adapting themselves, are inclined to be cantankerous and fussy. It's always well to impress upon older women the importance of friendliness and courtesy. 3. While there are exceptions, of course, to this rule, general experience indicates that "husky" girls — those who are just a little on the heavy side — are likely to be more even-tempered and efficient than their underweight sisters. 4. Retain a physician to give each woman you hire a special physical examination — one covering female conditions. This step not only protects the property against the possibilities of lawsuit but also reveals whether the employee-to-be has any female weaknesses which would make her mentally or physically unfit for the job. Transit companies that follow this practice report a surprising number of women turned down for nervous disorders. 5. In breaking in women who haven't previously done outside work, stress at the outset the importance of time — the fact that a minute or two lost here and there makes serious inroads on schedules. Until this point is gotten across, service is likely to be slowed up. 6. Give the female employe in garage or office a definite day-long schedule of duties so that she'll keep busy without bothering the management for instructions every few minutes. Numerous properties say that women make excellent workers when they have their jobs cut out for them but that they lack initiative in finding work themselves. 7. Whenever possible, let the inside employe change from one job to another at some time during the day. Women are inclined to be nervous and they're happier with change. 8. Give every girl an adequate number of rest periods during the day. Companies that are already using large numbers of women stress the fact that you have to make some allowances for feminine psychology. A girl has more confidence and consequently is more efficient if she can keep her hair tidied, apply fresh lipstick and wash her hands several times a day. 9. Be tactful in issuing instructions or in making criticisms. Women are often sensitive; they can't shrug off harsh words the way that men do. Never ridicule a woman — it breaks her spirit and cuts her efficiency. 10. Be reasonably considerate about using strong language around women. Even though a girl's husband or father may swear vociferously, she'll grow to dislike a place of business where she hears too much of this. 11. Get enough size variety in operator uniforms that each girl can have a proper fit. This point can't be stressed too strongly as a means of keeping women happy, according to western properties." Was this really published in 1943? We have seen many such items and I have fallen for some and have even blogged about them only to find out later that these claims were in fact not true. While we know that in the 1940s women in the workplace were almost universally under valued and patronised we still find it hard to believe that such an item could be published in a recognised trade magazine So I Googled our trusty friend snopes.com and found out that this was indeed written by L H Sanders and did appear in the 1943 edition of the magazine that was widely circulated at the time. Now look at the eleven hints - which is your favourite? I can imagine the uproar that would ensue if any company considered hint 4. And I do like hint 8 as I feel much more confidant if I can keep my hair tidied, apply fresh lipstick and wash my hands several times a day. Discussion at the Hospice last week, from whence came this photocopy, centred around the various hints and hint 3 the "Husky girls" came out as top choice among the staff. Click here to read more about women at work during the 1940s.

Antique Red Toolbox..................by Diane Ogden

So this is an antique small red toolbox.  And it is mine.  Great love and thoughtfulness was put into this little red metal box. 

You see I have lived alone for fourteen years.  I owned my own home, had several children and foster children living with me.  I did everything a man would have to do. Well most everything.   I was always borrowing a tool of some sort from my Dad,  Joe Junbluth.  Many children now and in past decades never had a Dad. My own Father's Father wasn't around much.  Many slither away like the standard snake in the grass after conception.   Back to my point.... 

 

One day my Dad, an old farmer, brought me that little read toolbox he took the time to fill just for me.  He couldn't give me a trust fund, or a new car, or a large red shiny tool chest with ten drawers.  But he gave me what he could.  His time.  He would run errands for me when I had no time to do them.  He would go to the kids school plays when no other family member did.  He would say please and thank you when he was never raised to do so.  He had an eighth grade education but studied on his own to learn to read and write better. He used to ask me how to spell things.  And he always put an e at the end of words.  Back to my point.  Or is this my point?  I guess as we grow, yes GROW (evolve)....we remember the small important things.  The little antique red tool box he put together especially for me twenty years ago plus.  I still have it you know?  It contains screwdrivers, pliers, crescent wrench, speckling putty knife, speckling compound, screws, nails, rubber hammer, hard hammer, those funny screwers, oh yeah, Allen wrenches!  Electrical tape, wire, tape measure, that balance wall thingy, and on and on.  Nothing fancy. The old down to earth tool box.  In his heart he wanted me to have a good man to take care of me when he was gone.  But that didn't happen in his lifetime, so he did what he could to help me have what I needed.  A little red toolbox filled with love. And all the errands he had time for.  He didn't know how to hug so well. He didn't know how to say I Love You so well. But he did it his way. You know, Like Frank. And today I remembered one of the best ways he showed it.  That beat up red tool box from his workshop.

  He must be hangin close cause I have been very spiritual the past couple days.

I'll try to find something more funny and less serious tomorrow.....

Until then.....be safe, be happy, be well, and get rich because its easier is all.  Even if I was rich I wouldn't give up the Tool Box my Dad Joe made just for me, so my life could be a lil bit easier.

 

Wake up!.................... by Diane Ogden

You have heard it said over and over that you and I should

Be thankful,  write down our grateful lists, think positive, talk positive, be nice to everyone and so on and on and on.  Sometimes we ignore it all and go about our business.  In fact most times life is so busy we just keep moving.   No time for yoga, or simple sitting in a comfy chair and meditating, or getting ready on Sunday morning for a run to any church to give thanks.  I dislike preaching to others.  Rather I tend to mother everyone so here I go again. 

 

I woke up with several particular unpleasant thoughts.  No I did not eat garlic before retiring.  I did not say expiring.  But that is what I saw.  I saw in my minds eye why I should be doing all the aforementioned things.  Being thankful, making gratitude lists, talking  positive, being kind and so on.

 

1- Somewhere someone is drowning

2- Somewhere some one's family home is burning to the ground

3- Somewhere a child is being kidnapped and harmed

4- Somewhere someone is on a breathing respirator

5- Somewhere a boat full of people is sinking

6- Somewhere there is a deadly avalanche

7- Somewhere a person is getting beat to death

8-Somewhere a dog is being misused

9-Somewhere a child is being beat up

10- Somewhere an earthquake swallowing people 

11- Somewhere a car accident - all expired

12- Somewhere some one's Grandma is taking her last breath

and she wasn't finished living yet

13- Somewhere a soldier lay bleeding from loss of limb

14- Somewhere someone is receiving chemotherapy

16- Somewhere someone is in a ambulance

17- Somewhere someone is lost in a dense forest no way out

18- Somewhere someone is going into surgery not knowing they wont come out

19- Somewhere some one's house is being robbed

20- Somewhere a child found a gun and shoots it

22- Somewhere someone is being raped

23- Somewhere someone just got shot several times

24- Somewhere the family pet of many yearss is dying

25- Somewhere the family car engine blew and there is no money for another one

26- Somewhere people sleep outside as they are homeless

27- Somewhere someone is hungry

28-  Somewhere horrible things are happening!

 

But not to you and I.  I am thankful.  So BE HAPPY, BE WELL, BE SAFE, AND BE THANKFUL.

Laters (I hope)

 

 

photo from www.shine.yahoo.com

 

Shabby Chic Dream...............by Diane Ogden

Not so interesting to most.....but to me, yes.  Something I have wanted for many years and seems to be quite hard to find....   A Shabby Chic SlipCover that I am not equipped to make. 

Other then that I was at a clients today and noticed a jar on her counter that said,  "Treasure Jar."  I noticed inside were artifacts from the 40's and 50's.  Tiny objects such as spool of thread, clothes pin, far animals like my borhter and I used to play with in teh early 50's.  And much more sweet memorabilia.

Besides the sweet memorabilia....I have another dream.  May we call my blog a sort of "Dream Board."  Because it is.  This small retreat is where I would like to write and meditate.  I have dreamed of having a small "dollhouse" such as this one for many decades.  I used to make them for my sons and daughters although never so elegant as this one I want for myself. 

Norweigan Leaning Tower of Slat Racks?.....by Diane Ogden

 

O -  M -  G  !

This is quite the site, isn't it? I have experienced this site several times in Madison, Wisconsin. And every time I experience it, my mind automatically suggests danger. Ya think? A slight wind, a slight miscalculation of the steering system, a sneeze, or God forbid another vehicle touches this Eiffel Tower on the roadway...I could be toast along with others. And would you take a look at the face in that side mirror? I am SORRY to say I expected it to be a South of the border face, you know, down Mexico way? (No offense of course) But indeed no. This was a true blue dumb donkey (butt) Wisconsinite. Even  an Okie I could have accepted this behavior from. Okie's don't be offended, it's merely from the jokes I have heard all my life and of course all the cars I have seen duct taped together in those parts, and of course my friend who pushes their old XR-7 in and out of the sun for the six large ferns they they store on its top! Now you get it? This guy must be Norwegian. They push their houses to start their furnaces. OK so that was a bad joke. My Dad told me that one years ago.
There must be money in carting around these slats stacked to the max. Doesn't it remind you of the people, (no not just the Chinese people), on bikes with mega huge bags of cans to return? Same story, different cargo. And as far as I could see there are only TWO straps on the sides holding this contraption together. The only word I could think of while sitting BEHIND it was....irresponsible...then I thought of myself and the effect of all that wood on my hood. Is that legal? It can't be! I'm not dissin the guy for trying to make a living but come on....this is an act only a squirrel crossing an electrical wire over a main highway would know about. Both are equally dumb, or maybe equally smart, depending on how one looks at it.
Let me just say until tomorrow......stay safe!    And get rich like me so you can give that man standing at the stoplight holding the cardboard saying he is down and out and would you / I help!  I get so anxious when that happens.  As it did an hour ago on my way home!   

DuctTape..................by Diane Ogden

 

You know your a Redneck when you buy a new car and "forget" to put insurance on it! (DUMB)Or your a drug dealer and dont need insurance?? I bet the bank would love this one....but then their just thieves like the insurance companies anyway... And we are working hard to save their sorry donkey's, (butts) so this guy can buy duck tape while they get millions in free bonus money. Cynical? Me? No way, I just think they should invent colored duct tape... starting out with RED!

And they have... But when I wrote this blog post years plus back -  they had not invented red duct tape. I figure I have about 900 posts of which most people do not go back and read so I pulled this one out of the archives because I thought it was really funny.  That duct tape is dang amazing!  I hear it even kills wort's. Stick duck tape on your wort and it removes it.  Takes a month or so but it works.  Wonder what wonder chemical makes said happen.  And if the wort is anywhere personal please do not duct tape yourself in those areas.  Wouldn't be good.  (In case a Red-Neck is reading this)
So til tomorrow, be safe, be well, and stay healthy, and get rich so you can pay your car insurance and or buy hundreds of rolls of red duct tape in case you need it. 
Laters.....

"Joby," ..............................A Short Story by Diane Ogden

 

It all started out as one of those adventure junket trips to an island far away for a weekend of something different and exciting. Sort of like the people that check in to the "game" Murder Hotel. Where you have to guess who the murderer is yet it seems so real... everyone dresses in character. This was very similar but on an island off South Viet Nam. We flew in and were escorted to our quarters that were less than I imagined. Lockers with our individual fatigues (interesting name for army outfits huh?) and helmets all put together with explicit detail. In fact one of the guests pulled out an extra helmet and for some reason he looked inside of it where he noticed something odd. He scratched off some crud covering a small area and as he did a name began appearing.....John Jungbluth Holt. What the hell? What? This is too weird! That was my Great Grandfather's name. He passed in World War II. This is supposed to be a fun and exciting little weekend trip including a war game. But come on, this sort of research done by people who merely set it up and gain a small amount of money isn't adding up. Our friend put the ghost helmet on and buckled it. Nothing was making sense and there was no turning back so he pressed on with us. We were given a vehicle several years old to do with what we purposed. Truly there weren't too many viable roads for its use. Danny, a part of our little junket trip, and our friend decided to take on the driving position. Me, I wanted to hit the depth of this adventure and go for the hills.The three of us did just that, with total naitivity in head and hand.
Maybe we forgot to read the fine print because we therefore entered the "fighting zone." Real and frightening, guns and terror. Ditches and dirty holes to protect ourselves in...and we did for an entire day and a half. Believe me we "knew" we had gotten into something way over our heads. Maybe the owners of this junket had stolen our identities and now were having us killed in this mock set up of a war zone. And we walked right into it. Oh God no one will ever find us.
The shooting had stopped long enough for us to feel safe to move on. To where? Survival had stepped in now and we just moved forward. Only to pass through a long terrifying cave and come out the other side to the old vehicle setting there in the middle of a field. Danny ran like a scared rabbit all the way to the car. I am screaming for him to stop as it might be wired to blow. He was out of control, ears and brain shut down...as was our other friends. Both youthful, and still long legged boys turned into men, (not quite.) Danny caught himself just as he reached for the handle...he backed up and grabbed a rock, threw it at the car several times. Nothing happened. He looked back at us as if to say, this is it no matter what. He reached for the door handle, opened it and got in. We ran quickly to our new found metal box. We drove across potholes and poor dirt paths when we came to what appeared to be a refugee camp. Tall fences, gates, one large building, and several tents. No guards. We drove into this complex as if we owned it. Definitely a change of attitude from our past couple days. Not to say there was no fear riding with us because there was. We reluctantly got out and left our metal refuge to enter one more possible refuge, or was it? Inside this building were many rooms of interest. A city inside a city. Very few people wandered about. Some seemed quite normal as if walking from home to school, or home to work... one women was babbling incoherently as she walked with two children. If she was part of "the game" she was a bad actor. She was saying "ga ga goo goo" and then say a couple rational words. I looked over at another woman who seemed quite normal to get some sort of reassurance, but when she caught my glance she exit-ed to what seemed no where. Were they secret passages, holes in the floor or what? We actually decided to leave because it was a to no where building. We ended up in a field, Danny sitting quietly in the car. I had discovered his ability to play this game we paid for wasn't his best quality in life. And I understood because "The Game" seemed out of touch with reality. But then wasn't it supposed to be? I suppose, but the danger we sensed did not appear to be in our imagination, rather real and intense. Suddenly I see a small figure of a human and I follow it. It is a child. A small boy child. He is dirty and sad and lost and dear God what sort of game is this? I pick him up into my arms and cradle him gently so as not to frighten him. Where is he from? Who would leave him out here alone? This is no game! I find I have wandered too far off from the guys... I carry "Joby," the name I called him, a long distance when I come to a ridge. The ridge is made of cardboard boxes and I have to climb it to get back to the car which I see in the distance. I must have gone the opposite direction in my adrenalin state after finding Joby, but at least it brought me full circle and almost back to the metal refuge. I sat Joby down and told him to stay I would be right back. I needed some help to get both of us through the maze of boxes. I ran to the car while continually looking back to make sure Joby was there. I screamed for Danny....I told him about Joby as quickly as I could. I said, "I want to take him home Danny." Danny sank in the seat as he turned his baseball cap to the side which told me he was still that long legged boy and not a man. I turned from him in my usual independent manner and sought after Joby on my own. When I reached the ridge Joby was gone. Once again a "man" had influenced me and I lost. I decided right then and there no man would ever again hurt my children or I. I was going to find little Joby and give him a home and love God willing I get out of this so called game and God willing Joby is real. There he is! He walking all alone in the field just beyond the ridge. I cried out for him, "Joby, wait, wait baby, Mama's coming."
Somehow I just knew he had no family. One of those Motherly instincts that kick in somewhere on an island off South Viet Nam. God if you get us out of this so called game I will never do this again...deal?" I scooped that little guy up and ran back to the ridge through weeds and bugs and dirt. We looked a mess and bloody at that. I climbed that cardboard barrier with all the force of a Mother saving her child from the rapids. Each step I took we fell back two or three. But again the adrenalin heaped onto me and from me gave nothing a chance for failure.
Then the fight was over. There was the metal refuge with the two scared little men sitting in it waiting for Ms. Warrior to appear. Surely they had no idea what had just transpired....no one did or so I thought. I placed Joby in the back seat center and then I climbed in myself. I told Danny to find us a way out of here now! He started to drive when a voice came over our radio and filled the car. It said, "Game is over, time up, you won the prize. Follow the road you are on 1.3 miles and then take the brown boulder cave to the exit ramps. Be careful as you cross the suspended bridge as it sways with the winds. Leave the car at the exit ramp. See you on the other side."
Now was that another frightening experience to experience? Or was it real? We had no choice, we followed the instructions. The suspension bridge was no picnic but we made it. I carried Joby all the way clutching him securely. He seemed like another part of me, attached at the heart we were. God forbid what was coming next? They would take him away wouldn't they? He was part of the game. Damn......
We arrived at the gates to a crowd of cheering people. What was this? Talk about Naive...I took the first prize for it that day. We found out "The Game" was all about Joby, a three year old boy who needed a home in America. The Game was about who would fight for this little man....and I won. I was crying at first out of fear and pain knowing deep down I couldn't take Joby home, he was part of "The Game." Then I was crying because I found out I could take him home. He was The First Prize and what a prize he is to this day. By the way, the name on the helmet? We were all researched by an adoption team from Europe so this game would seem more than real and even confusing. To see how we would operate under great pressure and even under what we presumed as dangerous conditions. I won....Determination and tenacity have always gotten me through this life, and now it gave me a new life. Joby.
 

photo compliment of carf at www.flickr.com