COLUMNISTS When I was 16, a careers adviser came to my school. She made me do various tests and then told me to avoid any job that involved words. I would be better off, she said, doing something technical; however, if I fancied a bookish career, then I might be able to make it as a librarian.
This didn’t appeal to me – all the less so as my dad was a librarian – and so, with a 16-year-old’s contempt, I dismissed her, her pathetic tests and her even more pathetic recommendations. What a shower, I thought.
