Summer Nights at the WCB

I know there were plenty of nastier jobs than mine, but I’d be hard pressed to think of one so overtly dehumanizing. For seven summers I was a Computer Operator, although all I ever really did was exactly what the computer told me to do. When it needed a tape, I mounted it. When it had something to print, I loaded the forms. The room itself was lit up like the inside of an icebox and just as cold so the equipment wouldn’t overheat, and we all worked round the clock because all that expensive electronics had to keep busy.