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| Al Fama, Lisbon |
At the age of 13, I got a chance to earn some money. My older sister had started a data entry operations company. She and her associate had a small office where they had installed three PCs. Some were the 386 and some were the 486 kind. The operation was to transfer the information from actual physical paper air tickets and log the information on there into an operating system.
It was obvious that at 13 I had no work experience and no typing skills. I was informed that the office had a sudden rush to complete the deadline and I was more than eager to earn some money.
The work was not complicated. We had to enter the passenger name, airline name, booking number and the starting and destination cities. I would earn a fair wage, the same as was being offered to the girls who had been employed by my sister. They were at least 20 years old and had been to typing institutes to get an official typing speed on their CVs.
I walked to my sister's office with one idea in my head. I was obsessed with clothes and buying jeans and t-shirts of my choice was something I loved doing. If the money was mine, no one could deny me wearing what I wanted to. Also, at that age, I had a limited wardrobe because I would inevitably outgrow my outfits very soon. I was tired of being told what clothes I could own and wear and was desperate to be able to wear things that I fancied.
I remember sitting in front of the screen with a huge pile of tickets next to me. One of the other girls showed me what to do with about 20 tickets. After that, I took over. And I typed. Ticket to screen, eye and brain checking the spelling I was typing. Laughing at some of the names of the passengers and discovering the airport codes for several cities in the world while doing so. Then moving to the next slot using the 'Tab' button, Typing again. Checking from screen to ticket, ticket to screen. Pressing 'Save'. Putting away the physical ticket and picking up the next one. Repeating the process. Again and again. With nearly no breaks, I stopped only when the other girls stopped for lunch. I rushed home to eat my meal. I rushed back. And then resumed for the afternoon session.
Soon it was 6 p.m., the other girls had to leave. I was ok to go on. My sister looked at me with her mouth open, surprised that I was not tired and said "No, it's fine." I hung around the office hoping to be allowed to type more. My sister counted the lots of tickets the three of us had typed that day in those eight hours. She was incredulous and surprised me with what she had discovered. "Using just those two fingers, you made more money than either of those girls today"!
I was delighted and asked, "Will you pay me today? When can I come next?"
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