So by 15th February 1971, we had reprogrammed all our customers, and there had been no telephones or problems. We RELAXED.
So happy and impressed were the management and directors of NCR with the smooth decimalisation process, that they called us all down to the UK headquarters near Baker Street, (famous for Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson) in London.
I this big hall we sat looking up expectantly for the arrival of out esteemed leaders on the stage. They walked in, and took one look at us, and called for doctors, to examine us.
Due to the long hours, the stress, worry, the responsibility, we were diagnosed with depression, anxiety, fatigue, you name it we all had it, and the doctors asked us to open our mouths and we were feed, the Prozac, the uppers the downers, and we were sent away to our own doctors for treatment.
I hate using drugs, as happened yesterday with my migraine (see article). I saw an advertisement for a hypnotherapist practicing in my then home town of Nottingham. This surely is the better way.
I lay out on the couch in his third floor “office”, and closed my eyes as he talked to me and ramble on and on, saying nothing of any importance.
What was going on?
Why was I not with Peter Pan in Never Never Land?
Why hadn’t the lights gone out?
Surely I should have gone asleep, to be awakened “cured”?
Why did I know that the bus going passed three floors below was the number 19 to Mansfield with 6 passengers on board?
I was disappointed. This stuff cannot work surely? I did not go back.
Strange thing was, I did not need any tablets after that visit.