my arm and I have to stand at the edge of the River Shannon so that
the whole world wont see the tears of a man the day hes fourteen.
Monday morning Im up early to wash my face and flatten my hair with
water and spit.The Abbot sees me in my new clothes. Jaysus, he says, is
it gettin married you are? and goes back to sleep.
Mrs. OConnell, the fat woman, says,Well, well, arent we the height
of fashion, and the thin one, Miss Barry, says, Did you rob a bank on the
weekend? and theres a great laugh from the telegram boys sitting on the
bench along the wall.
Im told to sit at the end of the bench and wait for my turn to go
out with telegrams. Some telegram boys in uniforms are the permanent
ones who took the exam.They can stay in the post office forever if they
like, take the next exam for postman and then the one for clerk that lets
them work inside selling stamps and money orders behind the counter
downstairs.The post office gives permanent boys big waterproof capes
for the bad weather and they get two weeks holiday every year. Every-
one says these are good jobs,steady and pensionable and respectable,and
if you get a job like this you never have to worry again in your whole
life, so you dont.
Temporary telegram boys are not allowed to stay in the job beyond
the age of sixteen.There are no uniforms, no holidays, the pay is less,
and if you stay out sick a day you can be fired. No excuses.There are no
waterproof capes. Bring your own raincoat or dodge the raindrops.
Mrs. OConnell calls me to her desk to give me a black leather belt and
pouch. She says theres a great shortage of bicycles so Ill have to walk
my first batch of telegrams. Im to go to the farthest address first, work
my way back, and dont take all day. Shes long enough in the post office
to know how long it takes to deliver six telegrams even by foot. Im not
to be stopping in pubs or bookies or even home for a cup of tea and if
I do Ill be found out. Im not to be stopping in chapels to say a prayer.
If I have to pray do it on the hoof or on the bicycle. If it rains pay no
attention. Deliver the telegrams and dont be a sissy.
One telegram is addressed to Mrs. Clohessy of Arthurs Quay and
that couldnt be anyone but Paddys mother.
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