The OM who taught me Morse code when I passed my ham radio license in the 80s was a long-retired telegraph operator. He recounted how he got his job:
He saw a ad for a job at his local Western Union telegraph office in the classifieds. He was already a ham radio enthusiast, so he figured he’d give it a shot. He showed up at the date and time indicated in the ad and sat in the waiting room with a bunch of other candidates for a long time. Nobody showed up to interview anybody. So he waited with all the others.
Then finally he got up and went straight to the recruiter’s office without prompting. He said he suddenly realized, while he was waiting there, that among the machinery noises and the clickety-clicks of the paddles, someone was continuously keying “If you can read this, go straight to the recruiter’s door.”
The office wanted only the very best telegraphists who lived and breathed the job. They figured someone who automatically listening to Morse code traffic when they heard something, and not just while on the job, was the kind of person they wanted.
That was part of a plot of a science fiction story that I can’t quite remember. The government was screening for psychics for a special branch. The applicants would show up and wait in a room with a psychic blasting “go through the small door”.
The OM who taught me Morse code when I passed my ham radio license in the 80s was a long-retired telegraph operator. He recounted how he got his job:
He saw a ad for a job at his local Western Union telegraph office in the classifieds. He was already a ham radio enthusiast, so he figured he’d give it a shot. He showed up at the date and time indicated in the ad and sat in the waiting room with a bunch of other candidates for a long time. Nobody showed up to interview anybody. So he waited with all the others.
Then finally he got up and went straight to the recruiter’s office without prompting. He said he suddenly realized, while he was waiting there, that among the machinery noises and the clickety-clicks of the paddles, someone was continuously keying “If you can read this, go straight to the recruiter’s door.”
The office wanted only the very best telegraphists who lived and breathed the job. They figured someone who automatically listening to Morse code traffic when they heard something, and not just while on the job, was the kind of person they wanted.
That was part of a plot of a science fiction story that I can’t quite remember. The government was screening for psychics for a special branch. The applicants would show up and wait in a room with a psychic blasting “go through the small door”.