RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CII, Issue 30192, 25 July 1963, Page 20

RANDOM REMINDER

WAIT FOR IT!

One of the most puzzling aspects of the New Zealand scene is the insistence on making the West Coaster a rough, tough, roistering type. Perhaps there is a hidden desire to supply New Zealand with some sort of colourful peasantry: but it is misleading. Not every gentleman on the West Coast will down several 12oz handles before breakfast; some play croquet. But the legend lives on, and when a recent arrival from Britain joined a large New Zealand marketing organisation. he was told in Wellington, before his posting to the far south, that

he must watch out for the West Coasters, who were a race apart, and if he met any, he was to be careful what he said. A few days after his arrival in Christchurch, when the new man went to a sales conference, he was introduced to a fellow employee staying at the same hotel. The new man learned, with a thrill of horror, that this was the West Coast representative, and a West Coaster, born and bred. It was obvious that they would have to share table, and transport to and from the hotel. For two long and apprehensive days the newcomer

agreed with everything his companion said. He was very careful not to venture any opinion of his own. But gradually the apprehension diminished—had they been pulling his leg in Wellington? The West Coaster seemed to be quite sane, certainly sober, and in fact quite harmless. But there is another problem now. The West Coaster has doubts about himself. Is he the right type for the job? If he is. why has the firm started employing silent, uncommunicative representatives who grow suddenly pale every time a man puts his hand in his pocket for his cigarette case?