I am the oldest child of seven. The first to lose innocence is usually the oldest, and until the next one down catches up the old fella is at the constant risk of innocent betrayal. Working life is much the same. The new arrival, especially in a first job, comes in clean (mostly) and oblivious to whatever schemes, scandals, scams and sleight of hand the incumbents have been sliding past the various layers of management. A special induction in addition to the official version needs to be carried out way before the tyro is allowed to take the wheel, any wheel. My first full time job was with a plastics manufacturer, and it was right on last year of the Sixties. This was some distance from my long term ambition to be a journalist. That prime aim was missed thanks to the existence of only two daily newspapers serving Auckland and the fact that only one, The New Zealand Herald, was offering a cadetship for the upcoming year. I was promising enough that I was granted an interview with