corresponded very closely to the way in which my own working
week was organised.
It turned out in practice that the possibility of com pleting a large amount of work on Mondays (due to having no back calls) meant that the extra work completed on Mondays would eventually bear fruit at the end of the week, i.e., on Friday, when up to half a day could be accumulated to use
as the reader wanted. This 'accumulated time' was mostly
used by the predominantly female and married meter readers
to catch up on domestic chores like shopping or housework
(cf. West, 1980 and 1982), or occasionally something more 'frivolous' (to them) such as going to the hairdressers. Alternatively, the accumulated time could be spread more evenly through the latter half of the week, again usually mostly used to accommodate domestic tasks such as collecting
92
children from school or shopping
The ability to 'make time' during the working week de pended crucially on not having 'back calls' on Monday morn
ings. Once established, the process whereby this was
achieved was self perpetuating. With a high proportion of the
work completed early in the week, especially on Mondays, meant that a smaller proportion had to be completed towards the end
of the week. By the time Friday came there were only a
small number of reads left to be completed,obviously this would proportionately generate only a small volume of back
2 5
calls. These could be 'carded' 'please post', and since
they would generate only a small number of cards being re turned to the head office, they would not draw undue
attention. This would dispense with the need for any back
calls on Monday mornings of the following week. The small
amount of reads completed on Fridays obviously could not be shown on the individual meter readers weekly summary sheet which was ultimately returned to the head office via the
supervisor. This difficulty was overcome by carrying forward
sheets done from the previous day to the succeeding day. This method of 'making time' was not overtly acknowledged by the supervisor, but w a s well known to him, as were the
2 6
reasons for doing it ; after all he had come 'up through
2 7 the ranks' himself
We see demonstrated here the interplay between structure and workplace, the way in which the centralisaton and
computerisaton of m e t e r accounting records at a new and distant regional headquarters had led on the one hand, to a greater degree of 'computer pacing' in the issue of work
93
(meter reading sheets), what Edwards (1979) refers to as 'a technology that paces and directs the labour process', and on the other hand, serves to further distance and reduce the
direct power of supervision. As I have shown, the idea of
working on your own and not seeing too much of the boss is a positive aspect of the work mentioned by all of those with whom I w o r k e d .
An important aspect of the meter readers' situation at work is the way they organise and plan the week's meter
reading. A crucial factor in the way you plan your week's
work is the 'run' you are allocated by the supervisor (the area in which you are to work) since this can make or break
your working week in terms of difficulty and speed. For
2 8
women in particular , fostering a good relationship with the
male supervisor appears to be important because they undoubtedly use the power they possess over the issue of
runs to reward compliance and good conduct, and to win consent (cf. Hill 1981, ch. 2).
In the discussion above we see that further bureaucrat ization - the centralisation and computerisation of metering records at a new regional headquarters - has made supervision a little more remote and provided additional freedom for
meter readers to organise their time during the week. But
tacit bargaining with supervisors is limited to marginal issues concerning the allocationof meter reading 'runs' and the 'turning of a blind eye' to strict finishing times in
the afternoons; this would be difficult to police in any
case. Finally, we also see examples of limited shifts towards
when the meter readers come into the depot at the end of the
week. It is at this time that a collective approach to super
vision becomes most feasible.
My own recruitment as a gas meter reader - the interview
On the morning that I arrived at the gas board offices for the interview, I found these were situated on the site of
the old Eastborough city gas works. The old works had been
completely cleared apart from the imposing lattice work of the Victorian gas-holder and storage tank of the type that
used to be a common feature of many town gas works. The old
works itself had been replaced by a car park of black tarmac
and white lines. Names were painted in matching white in one
corner close to a large office block of an architectural style best described as an inverted plastic egg box.
I entered the 'avant-garde' office block and was directed
to the desk of the metering supervisor. He was a short stout
man in late middle age, with a very red face. He seemed
unduly nervous and had a visible hand-tremor. His assistant,
an altogether thinner man, also in late middle age, seemed to
me 'fussier' and a little domineering. It appeared that
there had been few applicants for the job, for they gave me the impression that they were relieved to see a potential c a n d i d a t e .
I was ushered into a small interview room at the side of the main office. The interview was a little traumatic at times, the supervisor seemed nervous and occasionally rather
95
at a loss for words. His assistant interjected from time to
time to help out. Despite these difficulties the supervisor
appeared to be a kindly and amiable man. Towards the end of
the interview he seemed anxious to confirm my appointment, hastily saying that I could start the following Monday
morning. He emphasised the strenuous outdoor nature of the
work. During the course of the interview he said to me:
"Are you sure you won't mind going into people's homes, all kinds of homes, some of them will no doubt be much more
unpleasant than perhaps you've been used to". He added: "I
hear that you've studied sociology. I hope going into poor
homes won't affect you too much", he stressed: "You will have to remain 'detached' not get too involved or too upset when you come across cases of severe poverty".
Confirmation that I would be taking the job was speedily
concluded, on the spot. The next step was to make sure that
29
I was capable of reading 'four dial meters' : the deputy
supervisor said to me rather sarcastically: "You shouldn't
have any difficulty with that". I was given a dial face
that had been removed from an old meter and asked to give some readings after he had set and re-set the dials several times. When I had done this to his apparent satisfaction, I was shown how to complete the official paperwork and various
documents associated with the job. The emphasis was on
accuracy in reading meters and completion of the paperwork.
He stressed: "If you get it right first time it cuts down
on the aggro we get from headquarters"; the supervisor nodded agreement.
9 6
Some of the difficulties and drawbacks of the job had been put to me during the interview but, as I later found, most of the more unpleasant ones were not mentioned,only those which related to my perceived ability to carry out the work with minimum of 'comeback' for the supervisor (i.e., those related to the outdoor nature of the work, the con siderable amount of walking involved and the need to enter all kinds of districts and homes).
It was only slowly, whilst on the job, that I discovered the other, 'less desirable' aspects of the work, such as regular harassment by a vastly expanded population of unruly and sometimes ferocious dogs which occasionally produced
alarming and unexpected encounters (cf. Sparrow, 1982). It
was only after a fortnight's work that I was told of slot meter collector Ron Wild, who had bent down to open a meter cash box in one house where children had let him in and ended up in hospital with 15 stitches in his face resulting from
the bite of a fierce alsatian. I gradually discovered that
the 'dog problem' was very widespread, affecting most of the meter readers at some time I found that between two and
three incidents a month were reported. It was not long
before I became a victim myself necessitating time spent
visiting first the doctor then the hospital, to receive
97
B e c o m i n g a m e t e r r e a d e r at E a s t b o r o u g h
I arrived for work for the first time on a hot Monday
morning in June. There were uniformed security men on duty
at the entrance in a small lodge beside sturdy steel gates.
I remember thinking to myself: "I cannot imagine what anyone
would want to pinch unless they fancied a gas main or valve" but, as I was later to find out, the odd gas meter could prove very useful for someone wanting to reduce their gas
on
bill . Despite the 'apparent' security I entered the depot
and office block without hindrance or challenge.
My first day's work consisted of familiarising myself 31
with the lengthy rule book for meter readers and, of per
haps more relevance to the job, learning how to complete the rather tedious paperwork, consisting of summaries of the work completed each day, also how to complete 'dial postcards' if
the consumer is out on the first call. There were also
cards for taking down the consumer's address if the word
occupier appeared on the meter reading sheet. Additionally,
there was a form known as the PX 7- this was quite lengthy and had to be used in the event of anything untoward being found such as gas escapes, or faulty or broken meters necessi
tating a request for a meter change. I found that most of
these forms were known by their serial number and index letter, rather than being referred to descriptively or by name
Finally, there were the computer generated meter reading sheets: these were sent into the Eastborough office each
week and distributed to the meter readers on changeover 32
98
practice. The sheets consisted of a space at the top for
writing in the meter reading and a series of boxes across the sheet with numbers 0-9 down each vertical column; the
meter reading was subsequently 'dotted' with a soft pencil,
in the appropriate box. The completed sheet was therefore
in a state which could be readily committed to tape for
feeding into the computer data bank. I had read all the
material and familiarised myself with it by early afternoon, the supervisor said I could finish then, and added that when I reported for work the next morning I would be assigned to an experienced meter reader, and would go out on the streets
to experience the job at first hand. I was looking forward
to the prospect when I left that evening.
Out on the streets for the first time
I arrived for work at 8.00 a.m. on Tuesday morning, Gwen Barlow, a meter reader of some 12 years experience, was
34
waiting to take me out 'on the run' . Gwen was a pleasant,
rather quiet spoken woman in her mid-50s. She seemed to
have all the attributes o n e might expect from a person who
predominantly works outdoors. A fresh healthy complexion
and an upright posture, she was kitted out with suitable
clothing - a lightweight summer jacket and open sandals. We
got on well right from the start, and quickly developed a
harmonious working relationship: we had a similar sense of
humour and chatted easily. G w e n turned out to be not only a
friendly and cheerful colleague but also a valued 'key inform ant ' .
9 9
Though I had been issued with the basic equipment, a ring binder to hold the meter reading sheets, some dial postcards, some PX7 forms and a sharp pencil, I was soon to learn of 'other' essential equipment and perhaps more
important, how best to use the equipment. Gwen thought that
the most valuable item for a meter reader was an efficient torch as most meters were located under dark staircases or in similar dingy places, and sometimes in dank cellars. She insisted that it was most important that the torch be reliable
and as small and lightweight as possible. After a long
search she had found one particular type which fulfilled these essential requirements — it was the only one on the market with a switch strong enough to be operated 100 to 150 times a day (33,000 times a year!). I purchased one without delay— I had to finance it myself but the board paid a small battery allowance, an expense that far outweighed the cost of the torch itself, and which the allowance barely half c o v e r e d .
The next most important item was a rubber which, to save fumbling, should be of a type that fits on to the blunt end
of a pencil and is always ready for use. Of equal importance
was a pencil sharpener and two spare pencils - it is surpris ing how many times a pencil is broken, stepped on, dropped
down drains or into inaccessible places, or just lost. All
of these items must be strategically placed in the appropriate pockets so that they can be brought to hand with the minimum
of trouble. Finally, the ring-binder, containing the day's
meter reading sheets, should only have in it the minimum number of sheets necessary for a day's work to minimise the
100
weight. It is crucial that the binder of sheets be held in
one particular position, otherwise a very painful shoulder would develop by the end of the day.
Armed with this information and at least some of the
suggested equipment, we set out for the day. It was a hot
June day with cloudless blue skies and almost no wind. The
area which we worked this first day consisted wholly of the inner city, a mixture of old Victorian terraced houses, tall multi-storey flats, a mixture of shops and offices, and the
fish market. Gwen described it as: "One of the worst runs
35
in the book" . She felt sure that she had done this same
run more than once in the past two years and thought that the supervisor had 'favourites' who were allotted the bad runs
3 6 less often than they should have been
The first place we visited was a tower block of flats near the city centre that had been built as luxury flats
during the building boom of the 1960s. However, the letting
agent had been unable to find tenants at the astronomical rents asked so, like the Centre Point development in Soho, it had stood empty for two years, finally being taken over by the Eastborough City Council for occupation by people high
on their housing list. Gwen said we would find what she
described as "a motley collection" of tenants. Some of
the flats are very dirty or disorganised, and a number
according to Gwen, occupied by well-known local prostitutes. As it turned out, and much to my new colleague's annoyance, all but one of the occupants were either out, or would not answer the door.
1 0 1
The only flat we did get into was, as Gwen had predicted,
very dirty and disorganised. A grey haired woman, probably
in her middle 50s, answered the door wearing a long nightdress, she was rubbing her eyes as if she had just risen from bed. Without a word she pointed to the kitchen a n d disappeared
into the bedroom. We went into the kitchen which was also
very disorganised and smelled pungently of stale food and cigarette smoke, the sink was piled high w i t h unwashed
crockery and blackened saucepans. Gwen opened the cupboard
where she knew the meter was situated, out fell a pile of stinking clothes and old shoes, she looked at me and shook
her head whispering: "Now you know why she's disappeared".
Finally, after much foraging, we located the meter. Gwen
asked me to read the meter saying: "This o n e will be good
practice for you". It was of the four dial type so I had to kneel right down to face the dials squarely and concentrate hard, she then checked for herself and was satisfied that I had obtained the correct reading.
The next place we visited was a very short street of
no more than a dozen Victorian terraced houses. They looked
strangely out of place as most of the surrounding area had been re-developed leaving just this part of the street,
isolated. The first two houses we called at produced no reply,
so a dial postcard had to be completed with the consumer
number written in. Writing the number was quite a performance
in itself since it consists of a number w i t h no less than 3 7
fifteen digits , this has the effect of rapidly wearing down
the pencils. Gwen also took the opportunity to offer
1 0 2
Always lift the letter-box flap with your pencil, it's a favourite trick of 'guard dogs' to leap up to the letter box and snap at your fingers, there have been