Let me try to run the lyrics, almost in their entirety, for "Five-Oclock World":
"It's a five-o'clock world when the whistle blows,
No one owns a piece of my time...
And there's a long-haired girl who waits, I know,
To ease my troubled mind.....
(melody w/o words)
"Worked all day just to get paid,
Spendin' money that I haven't yet made.
(Repeat) "Five-o'clock world when the whistle blows"......
How many of us retirees are like myself, recalling paying "homage" to a "time-clock" every day, as though it owned us? The mad dash towards that damned infernal thing sometimes caused clashes. At Victor Gasket Co., "clocking in" up to three minutes late was excused, three to six cost you 15 minutes pay! You can figger it out from there!
My boss, Dan Czernik, pushed the Chief Engineer, Steve Lillis, to "take me off the clock", within six weeks of my hire, so intent was Dan on keeping me. This made me feel good beyond any expectations that a first-time "real job" could have provided. Soon, I was a "Management Employee", which meant salary paid, no matter what obstructions placed by that damned clock!
I started there exactly 2 months before John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I loved the job, the people I got to know, the bowling league, the widely-dispersed Departments I needed to interface with: mainly Maintenance functions, Electrical, Plumbing, Experimental Machine Shop. The Foremen initially hated me, I'm sure. But soon, they learned that Steve Lillis backed me. That they would not mess with. I had it MADE! A new, young, gorgeous wife, good-paying, most enjoyable job, vacation trips out to Vegas, not a care in the world at age 24.
Then, it unraveled. Suddenly, explosively. "Inherited" two teen-aged kids. Called up for the draft (Viet Nam burning). Deferred. Transplanted in both position and time into an element foreign, took a stand, frightened, quit the company, most enjoyable job of my life, up till then. Left my birthplace forever.
Running on empty, here. Sorry. imp
"It's a five-o'clock world when the whistle blows,
No one owns a piece of my time...
And there's a long-haired girl who waits, I know,
To ease my troubled mind.....
(melody w/o words)
"Worked all day just to get paid,
Spendin' money that I haven't yet made.
(Repeat) "Five-o'clock world when the whistle blows"......
How many of us retirees are like myself, recalling paying "homage" to a "time-clock" every day, as though it owned us? The mad dash towards that damned infernal thing sometimes caused clashes. At Victor Gasket Co., "clocking in" up to three minutes late was excused, three to six cost you 15 minutes pay! You can figger it out from there!
My boss, Dan Czernik, pushed the Chief Engineer, Steve Lillis, to "take me off the clock", within six weeks of my hire, so intent was Dan on keeping me. This made me feel good beyond any expectations that a first-time "real job" could have provided. Soon, I was a "Management Employee", which meant salary paid, no matter what obstructions placed by that damned clock!
I started there exactly 2 months before John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I loved the job, the people I got to know, the bowling league, the widely-dispersed Departments I needed to interface with: mainly Maintenance functions, Electrical, Plumbing, Experimental Machine Shop. The Foremen initially hated me, I'm sure. But soon, they learned that Steve Lillis backed me. That they would not mess with. I had it MADE! A new, young, gorgeous wife, good-paying, most enjoyable job, vacation trips out to Vegas, not a care in the world at age 24.
Then, it unraveled. Suddenly, explosively. "Inherited" two teen-aged kids. Called up for the draft (Viet Nam burning). Deferred. Transplanted in both position and time into an element foreign, took a stand, frightened, quit the company, most enjoyable job of my life, up till then. Left my birthplace forever.
Running on empty, here. Sorry. imp
