There were telephone calls to be answered—Patti the telephonist sympathetically endeavoured to direct as few of these as possible to my telephone but sometimes it was unavoidable. There were queries about due dates and premiums owed, but mostly cover notes to be written. I almost always misunderstood what the person wanted to insure, although that mattered little since my handwriting was so illegible that it was usual quite impossible to determine who had insured what for what in any case.
“An elephant rug,” Slimy Duggans gasped on one memorable occasion. “Are you telling me this perfectly normal suburban housewife wants to insure an elephant rug for ten shillings.”
“That’s what she said,” I murmured. I murmured because I already knew that it was only what I thought she said. How was I to know that you could not make a rug out of an elephant skin, nor that if you did it would be worth considerably more than half a quid?
    They would have called the woman back had the name and the address been legible. Instead, it was one of those guessing games that flew about the office.
“Sometimes they use elephants feet for umbrella stands,” suggested Dozey Maddocks, the Motor Vehicle Supervisor.
“I’ve seen Myers selling coffee mugs in the shape of elephants,” Janie Prentiss suggested. “Elephant mug?”
“For ten bob?”
“Got it!” shouted Warren Whatmore from the Claims section. “It’s Electric Jug!”
Of course it was.