I graduated from college in 1975 with a Bachelor of Science in Geography. Because I had changed my major course of studies along the line, I also had “under my belt”, twenty one credit hours in history, twenty one credit hours in geology, and several semesters of economics, sociology, psychology, mathematics, chemistry, physics and secondary education. I had also had one paper published in the Maryland Journal of Geologic Survey. But like most graduating students, I had absolutely no job prospects, and only the vaguest notion of what I wanted to do for a living. So I took myself down to the local employment office, and filled out applications for every job entrance examination they had, for which I thought I might qualify.

Among those was a Standard Federal Employment Examination. Eventually, I got the results back in the mail, and, a few days later, a request from the Veteran’s Administration to report for a job interview.

When I reported for the interview, there were about thirty people sitting on benches in the hallway, waiting. I signed in, and was directed to wait on the bench until my name was called. I hadn’t quite expected that, but, since I really had no expectations whatsoever, I simply did as I was told.

In due course, I was called, and went into an office to be interviewed by someone whom I assumed to be a Personnel Manager of some sort. He asked all the usual questions about my education and background, and in my presence, called two of my three references, and spoke to them by telephone. Of course, they gave me glowing recommendations. Who would be silly enough to put people as references who were not going to give good recommendations?

As the interview was “winding down”, I became more and more certain that I was going to be hired. I felt that way up until the last minute, when he said, “Well, Mr. ___________, you are clearly the most qualified applicant for this position. Your military experience, and the fact that you are still a Naval Reservist makes you an ideal candidate. I’d like to hire you. If you were African American, or female, or Native American, I could. But as it is, my hands are tied. I’m sorry, and I wish you the best of luck. I’m sure with your qualifications; you’ll have no problem finding employment.”

I politely thanked him for his time, and found my own way out of the office. Six months later, out of desperation I accepted a job as an automobile mechanic.