By Mary Duggan

I know I still owe you a bit about the coworker who looked like a movie star. Specifically a va Va VAH VOOM superstar like Sophia Loren – that kind of sexy gorgeous. Teresa Naon and I had grown up together, at least from the middle of grade school on, when she and her family arrived from Argentina and landed in our neighborhood and our school. Our mothers quickly became friends and my mom was more than happy to have the Naon kids join us for lunch at our house while their mom was transitionally busy with work or school or something related to their settling in. From this phase of my life with Teresa I remember two things. The first was chocolate milk. (more…)

By Mary Duggan

I have just one more thing to say about my time right out of high school spent working at a bank. Okay, maybe two or three things. Yes, I WAS miserable; but from the distance of four decades I can see that even at the worst times in your life – and working at a bank was so that for me – there is always so much going on, as well, that is magical and worth remembering. I think this is one of the gifts of maturing. I will not be saying aging for another decade, at least. The gift of seeing that the world, if you can just let it, or better yet work with it, is always trying to heal you. Three co-workers at Beverly Bank taught me that.

One of them looked like a rock star. One of them looked like a movie star. And one of them was related to a movie star. I will begin with the related one. And I will try to not say this again –  I was miserable working at the bank. But it was not all the bank’s fault; and Nancy helped me to address that and get on with my life. But, I have to talk about looked like a rock star first. (more…)

By Mary Duggan

When I was just a kid looking to find my way in the world of work, I had one guiding prerequisite. I wanted a job where I did not have to wear panty hose. I was not alone. There were plenty of other young women in my same predicament with my same tiny dream. You laugh now, you kids at jobs where you’re allowed nose rings and tattoos and visible arm pit hair that is braided and patchouli-scented; but I came of age in darker days. My first “real” job was in a bank. It does not get any worse than that – not then, not now.

I made $2.67 per hour to work in Loan Operations at our local bank. It was 1971, the economy was in quite a slump (more…)