On their return, Ruth joined the staff of Max Pollak & Freemantle as a clerk and within a short time the Stock Exchange 'boom' hit the market. Consequently, within months the staff found they were working all hours, arriving at the office as early as seven in the morning and not leaving before midnight in order to handle the greatly increased workload.
One of the dealers, Archie Shapiro, caused some amusement. His wife was very strict about only serving kosher food to their family, but when the staff were all given sandwiches in the evening, Archie would make a bee-line for the ones with ham, saying, "Bloody good Jew, I am!"
During the 'boom' my Father arranged for all the staff to be given bonuses, so some months we received double cheques or more. However, as we were all too busy to spend much, it was arranged that an account would be opened for each member of staff and the accounts would accumulate interest. When this proviso was suggested, the Accounts clerk asked what about the African staff as we had one in charge of serving tea and, maybe one other. My Father said they must be treated in the same way, but that he would explain the situation to them, so there would be no misunderstanding. This proved more difficult than he had anticipated since their immediate belief was that they were to be given cash, only to have it taken away again! But, in the end, he did explain the situation to them by an analogy they could follow, telling them that this extra cash was like a cow, which needed looking after, but each year would produce a calf! This was highly satisfactory to them. However, sometime later, when John (the 'tea boy') wanted a rise, saying he couldn't manage on his salary but, strangely, once given the extra, he returned to say, on the other hand he could now manage on much less and wanted the extra to go into his account and produce more 'calves'.
While writing about 'John - the teaboy' (as he always called himself) I recall my Father recounting how over time he seemed to slack off and become more autocratic and my Father became more and more impatient with him, eventually calling him into his office to tell him that he was sacked. The reply he received was, "You can't sack me. I am John, the tea boy!" He was still with the firm the last time we called at the office, some time after my Father's death!