Jeannette and I stood frozen to the spot. Neither of us had seen the lunchtime – or evening – news, though we had had a radio on which was tuned to a local station. The prisoner was still on the run and police were yet to get a lead on his whereabouts. But there was something familiar about this guy, I was sure I had seen him before. Although in this job, we got to see quite a few people.

As he moved from the shadows, I noticed he had a slight drag to his right leg. My main concentration however was that shotgun and the direction in which it was pointed. As the thought left my head about his gait, another appeared in its place. I did not know whether this was the escaped prisoner, though I doubted it, after all wouldn’t he have been long gone by now?

Why hang around? And where had he been hiding?

It was becoming abundantly clear to both of us that our plans for the evening had changed somewhat. It was cold, the sky wore a cloak of the finest cloud, with the pale motif of a half-moon now disappearing and together we shivered as large raindrops started to fall.

We dared not even glance at each other, as the man began to shout at us. His speech was muffled through the mask, though it was clear he wanted something. Jeannette, although scared, asked him please to slow down, as it was hard to understand. If we could not understand then how could we do what he wanted?

He took this question and seemed to be digesting what she had said. Before a seconds’ hesitation, he told us he needed a car – and a driver. Or two – as we women always ‘did stuff together’, he would take the both of us – take us where? – one as a driver the other as insurance. This struck him as amusing, and he gave a short sharp chuckle. We were told to turn slowly toward the door from which we had both very recently left, straight away I sensed him move closer to me and felt the metal of the gun against my neck. He told Jeannette to open the door and lead us to the keys. Keys?

He wanted one of the staff cars and Jeannette to drive. If the time in which it had taken to get to this point had seemed to go on, then the next five minutes were going to be among the longest of my 34 years. With a gun pushed against me, I held on to the tears of terror that I may never see my children or my husband again, and it was this thought that kept me from breaking down completely.

Silent tears coursed down my colleague’s face as she unlocked the door and disabled the alarm that had not long been set, before going back along the darkened corridor to the office. I felt a click as he barked instructions at her to hurry, she was taking too long, he did not like being kept waiting.

I wondered if she were deliberately playing for time, and while mentally applauding her, another part of me willed her to hurry also, so he could get to where he wanted and hopefully let us go. In my mind I had the idea half formed that we could let him get away, and hold back before going to the police.

Jeannette by now had got to the safe where the keys were kept and was fumbling with the door, while all the time, our captor kept up his stance with the gun against me, and I was painfully aware of it, as the veins in my neck throbbed with fright.

Finally we were in the rear car park, and I was pushed into the back seat as Jeannette got into the driving seat. In the dark I could see her trembling, as she tried to get the key into the ignition and start the vehicle. The man gave further instruction and with a degree of irony told her to go straight on unless he told her otherwise. She had already offered him our petty cash, which he had taken although he told us this was not the motive of the evening’s events.

Jeannette had failed to tell him she had not driven for over ten years.

Jeannette greeted me at the door – there was to be a staff meeting that evening after work and it was imperative that all colleagues attended. As I asked what time it would start, something was nagging at the back of my mind. I was supposed to be somewhere, something to do with the kids.

It was playing on my mind all through the morning, as I greeted the nervous novices and their instructors and set up with their clipboards and personal data sheets. I was just about to go for a coffee when a mobile phone rang out in the waiting room and it was a disco classic. That was it!

School Disco – I was supposed to be helping. Well my husband would need to fill in for me. I had made a commitment to school but also to my employer and the sad difference was that this helped pay our bills. How many mothers went through this every day – everybody wants a little piece and one day there is nothing left to give!

I rang around, adjusted arrangements and finally was able to get into the swing of things, tense though it still was. All through the day students came and went and the stress seemed to diminish. Some of them even passed – examiners returning to the office with smiles on their faces was becoming a more regular sight. Use of the coffee machine slowed in proportion to the water dispenser being emptied. As I went to collect another pack of cups from the store cupboard, I could see just how true this was, and told myself to remember a purchase order for them when I returned to my computer.

At lunchtime, one of the examiners came in saying that the prison had been on the 1 o’clock news – a prisoner had broken free and police were conducting a major search. No-one was to approach him but he was not thought to be too dangerous to the public.  The sort of news report that actually was not very helpful especially as no photo fit had been shown so how were we to know who he was. After all they did not tend to wear striped jumpers and carry swag bags – nor did they wear boiler suits with arrows on!.

As the working day came to an end, I made sure my overtime had been logged. We had all had a busy time and thoughts of the prisoner had all but left us. We had had no visits from the police themselves, so the overall assumption seemed to be that the prisoner had been recaptured. Finally the last student returned and left again, Pass paperwork clutched in sweaty hand, learner plates cut into small pieces by nail scissors -placed by a thoughtful parent, in the glove compartment.

As I went round shutting down computers, a decision had been made to head off to the local restaurant to hold the meeting and only two of us remained to lock up. The office was permitted two cars which could be used for examiners who were required at short notice to travel to other centres and stand in for absent colleagues. I went out to the rear car park to make sure these cars had definitely been locked, and glanced over towards the prison with a shudder. I just had the weirdest feeling I was being watched. I decided it was just the shadows and re-entered the building where Jeannette was doing final checks also. We had just set the alarm, and were about to walk the short distance to the restaurant, when a figure stepped out in front of us – brandishing a sawn-off shotgun and wearing a mask.

A week in my new job passed extremely quickly, as I was shown how various internal computer systems worked. I met all of the examiners – though for a couple of them it was more of a re-acquaintance than first meeting, obviously with the amount of drivers to be whom they met, they weren’t realistically going to remember me. I was actually quite grateful for this as I had made some pretty diabolical and particularly embarrassing errors on a couple of driving tests in the past, before finally passing in my own car in June four years ago. It was nice to see that the examiners did not  have cloven hooves or numbers on their heads, and that in fact a lot of the time they were sincerely affected by a pupil’s failure, and felt so bad that they had not been able to pass them, but simply encourage them to practise and put in for another test. Other times, they put their lives in the hands of students who had been ‘taught’ by well meaning relatives, and returned to the Test Centre -in their own words – ‘with a few more grey hairs than they left with.’

One lady examiner – the only female examiner- was a former instructor of mine and had examined my driving on no less than two occasions. She had , in her previous position, worked for a national Driving School, was slightly bristly and abrupt in her manner towards me, and I was instantly reminded of Helen Bright. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. You really don’t know what people go through in their private lives, and I wasn’t about to ask what her problem was!

It was decided as part of my induction training that I be talked through a test,so if I was asked about the test itself I would have the knowledge and therefore be able to offer an improved customer service to a novice driver. This, Jeannette told me, was all part of a Government initiative. Well, from being involved in the children’s school, I knew just how often they were thrown into an already hectic schedule and the level of appreciation with which they were received.

So this training had to be factored in somewhere and the discussion on which examiner had the time available had already begun the following Thursday when I turned up at the Test Centre. I had just seen a student turn up and reverse park into a space, and as I was early – traffic lights had actually been on my side that morning – I hung around in my car. A few minutes later I saw a big smile cross the face of this lady who had looked slightly more nervous than most. So I went into work on a positive note, only to enter the office mid-debate about my ongoing training, in particular the test route aspect.

The board was filled as usual with who was examining which student and when, and the waiting-room was also filling up as more novice drivers arrived to be put through their paces. The camaraderie between the staff seemed to be wearing a little thin in places and the mood appeared to be permeating through the bullet-proof glass, though voices were kept low. Instructors and their pupils sat on the now familiar ‘staffroom’ chairs, checking watches, turning mobiles to vibrate – or off completely. The discussion continued. Finally it was decided that I should actually go out with an examiner on a route and be talked through what was expected of the pupil. Then came the fun part of deciding who had the time slot available. And when that time slot was going to be.

The morning carried on – and the initial success of the lady I had seen looked like it had been a one-off, as the coffee machine usage was increased – along with the stress levels of examiners, as they told of several near-accidents involving traffic cones and workmen. Both of which were currently plentiful in the city. The pressure on these examiners was high as each student had to fulfil a certain criteria in order to pass. Not only had they to complete the route, but negotiate road works and temporary speed limits also, in the same amount of time they normally had per test.

Once everyone else was at school and work, it was with a high degree of trepidation that I drove the four mile route to the test centre, and saw two or three cars taking their leave of the parking area – and one returning. I felt more and more stressed as I parked my car – as if I too were under observation. Almost someone were going to turn to me and tell me I had failed and would have to retake – for the eighth time! I would rather go through labour and childbirth than retake my driving test – what was I going on about? It wasn’t me!

So why did this building instil such fear into me? I looked around the parking area as I locked my car, and noticed that the person who had come back as I had arrived was in tears with the examiner looking uncomfortable leaving the vehicle and talking to a woman who was probably the instructor He was stood going through a conversation with her, fiddling with the Velcro on his high-visibility jacket, then he turned and carried on towards the door at the back of the building, leaving the instructor to console her student- and my heart in tatters as I felt so badly for her.

Just as I was beginning to wonder if I should enter by the back door or go around the front, a man put is head around the back door and asked was I okay and was I their new lady? I replied positively to both questions and he beckoned me over. He too had the high visibility jacket, but wore it with a smile that made me feel much more at ease. Leading me into the building, which smelt like a hospital waiting room, he showed me to a seat and asked if I wanted a coffee or something? I replied not, the shaking in my hands was unmistakeable and I knew I would be bound to drop it all over this polished floor.

Sat in the corridor awaiting the door to open, I now felt as though I were facing the headteacher at school for some huge misdemeanour, and I could almost feel a whole term of house points slipping away. Once again able to do my instant mind makeover of the area, the colour of the walls, a pale duck-egg blue was not too bad, there were potted plants, and I already knew what the waiting room was like, yet that was my perception of it as a learner driver, and therefore was somewhat warped.

Finally a lady came into the corridor to fetch me and lead me to the inner sanctum of the Administrators Office. The first thing I noticed was the relaxed feel of the open plan room – deceptively large this side of the grille. Well I am sure there were no bars up when I last attended four years ago. Bullet-proof window as well? The lady – Jeanette – saw me noticing this, and reassured me that nothing untoward had happened it was simply Government guidelines since the prison nearby had been built. Oh how reassuring!

This room was pale green, but much nicer than the insipid green of the Theory Test Centre in town.  The floor had darker green carpet tiles, probably also government issue.She ran through the housekeeping – where the Fire Exits were, Bomb procedures, etc. Bomb procedures? Were people so distressed at failure that they resorted to terrorist behaviour?

On the wall was a huge planner, not dissimilar to the one on the wall at the Maternity Unit, also fairly close by. Right now I knew where I would rather be. It gave lists of what examiner went with which student and when, apparently this was agreed at daily staff meetings – like the huddle before shift at the supermarket.

 My job here would be to greet the students and their instructors and issue them with clipboard and information sheet. As tests began at eight thirty now, there was a shift pattern, but I would be working partly here and partly at the Theory Test Centre and would be advised as much in advance as possible when and where I would be needed.

As if on cue, a face appeared at the window and Jeanette signalled for me to follow her. She was really good with the nervous lad stood there, and just as I was thinking that she was a real asset to the place, she announced once he had been given his clipboard and sheet that she was taking early retirement at the end of June – one reason why they were recruiting now,

I found the job very interesting and time went quickly, the examiners actually were human and not as robotic as I feared, though I had yet to meet two or three of them, so obviously they were breaking me in gently. I got the feeling though this could be right for me – I had been ‘on the other side’ too many times.

The morning was wet and I knew as I got my straighteners out that the look I was going for was not necessarily the look I would achieve standing in front of the mirror at home, let alone how it would look when I got to work. The tricky part was not so much the hair but how not to clash with the room itself. I had a really nice office type outfit in a chocolatey colour, but against the yellow walls I was going to look like some sort of seventies throwback – visions of being five years old and wearing a yellow gingham school dress with extensive wite collarand brown cardigan came to mind.

In the end I went for black. I dropped the kids at school and drove into town, heading for the car park on Park Road. As I indicated to turn into the car park, people were turning up also – either to work in other parts of the building – which I now knew to house at least two other businesses, or being dropped off for their driving theory tests. Spaces in the car park were filling quite quickly and I was lucky to get the last available spot, once again reversing in, but this time without the scrutiny of Mr Plankton. This made me wonder how he had got on yesterday. I wondered if I could ask or would it be a breach of confidentiality.

The car park was surrounded by trees, and in the wind, leaves were dropping – which although it didn’t sound right for this time of year, was actually quite fitting. Berries were on trees and the birds were enjoying an unseasonal feast, leaving behind their greetings on the sunroof of my car. Which, fortunately was shrouded in a cloak of the aforementioned leaves.

When I finally got into the building, having remembered my P45 and bank account details, oh and miraculously my passport, Vi was sat at her desk, filling in paperwork. She too was wearing black and together against the bright yellow we looked like we were warming up to dance ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’

The day wore on, and several groups attended for their tests, some successful and some not. So as a mixture of glum and cheery expressions left the room, I managed to grasp the basic essentials of what the position might entail. We were stood by the printer awaiting the Pass Certificates to come off.

Then Vi said that I would be required to undergo training to help out in the other office, on the outskirts of town, sometimes working away from the office. But not to worry, other examiners would train me first. As I sat down rather sharpish, she asked was I alright?

I made the ‘ok’ signal and managed finally to manoeuvre myself into a standing position, before gathering my bag and leaving to pick the kids up.

Driving from my space after spending some considerable time clearing the wet rear windscreen of leaves. I joined the busy line of traffic and drove at snail’s pace back towards the village, hoping to make it to school in time to get a space in yet another car park!

I looked at the paperwork I had been issued earlier by Vi as I sat waiting for my children to emerge tired – possibly, happy – sometimes, hungry – for sure, from their classrooms. Tomorrow I was due to visit the other site to meet the staff and learn how they went about their daily business. Certainly I would not need help getting to this building, for sadly it had become all too familiar over the last fourteen years. Though now I had been driving for just under four years, it was a well worn road that led me to the Driving Test Centre.

As she spoke through a type of intercom to the students in the room, she then turned her attention to me and was just about to start speaking when the door opened and in came Mr Plankton from the parking shenanigan earlier. I thought he was going to be the colleague, but as he began to speak in a somewhat nervous tone, it became clear that he was actually to be taking his driving theory test. But because he had come in after the others had started the test, he would either have to wait until the next group came and start with them or go away and re-appoint for a completely different day.

Any glee or victory I might have felt over him was now empty, as I looked at his sad and somewhat dejected expression coupled with his shock at seeing me again at all, let alone so soon. I almost felt maternal towards him – almost, but not quite. He had decided to wait and took a seat at the other end opposite the lockers. The woman now turned her attention back to me and gestured that we go to the room now to the left of where she was standing. The test itself lasted for 45 minutes and any time spent out in this tribute to bad design was therefore encroaching on my interview ‘slot’

So we sat and talked – to be fair she talked and I listened. Although she furnished me with plenty of information I did not actually feel that we were getting anywhere, or whether I was any closer to procuring a new position. Waffling was by far her strongest point, but I had learnt from my previous job to discover what the position actually was going to be BEFORE I left the building. Thus eliminating that element of surprise, should I be successful.

Now as we sat, I took a guess at what I would be doing, and was wondering how I would be able to work in such a colourful place without gaining a lifetime prescription for migraine tablets – failing that a regular appointment at SeeClear the new opticians in the High Street. Suddenly she looked up and I saw a clock that I had not noticed before. Though I don’t know how I could possibly have missed it! The clockface could surely only be rivalled by that famous time teller housed with Big Ben in London. Size was everything to some people.

I became aware that she had asked me a question, but I had to be honest I didn’t have the foggiest idea what it was. So am I the only person who has ever been in this position at an interview, and how would I get out of it? Mr Plankton helped, by providing a distraction and asking how long would it be as he really had to get back. My maternal side slipped a notch or two, as I offered him a lift back to is office, which he said was out of town. But he might have to hang on, I added, as I negotiated my way out of a tight space.

The interviewer, who I now knew to be called Vi, coughed, and made a further point of checking the time, as in the room over the way, people were finishing and sitting back in their swivel chairs – one girl actually dared to allow herself a victory swivel in her chair upon completion of her test. The look of relief she wore was brighter than any wall in this entire building, a statement in itself!

Vi got up and headed to the door and beckoned me to follow her – it looked for now like I had got away with the whole question issue, but to thank Mr Plankton here would probably just confuse him, so I kept quiet. I looked to where Vi had gone to a printer and followed her over. She was retrieving Pass certificates from the printer, and then from another printer – letters to arrange new appointments. Oh how I felt for those who received that particular letter. Mr P was ushered into the room as others came out. I wished him all the best.

As I did this, Vi was offering me the job and I had agreed to be there the next morning for initial training.

The time was up.

So after a trawl through the agencies and being thoroughly fed up at the end of it, I found myself answering the telephone to an agency girl who had a position I might just be interested in. Could I go along on Wednesday morning at ten to meet and have a chat with them?

Here I was, parking my car in what was quite probably the smallest space ever. Oh and a helpful passer by standing with his arms folded and shaking his head. Though I was growing ever more agitated, I was determined to show this lowlife how it should be done and blessed my car, promising it all sorts of treats like a good clean and maybe even a service if I got the job! Just to please let me get parked and away from this revolting man with the smirk on his his face.

After a little jiggle backwards, parking was complete and I got out of the car and went to purchase my ticket, awarding myself a beaming smile at the sharp suited plankton, who now more resembled a goldfish, stood there with his mouth open at the woman who was able to reverse park with no problems.

Pulling my skirt straight, I unlocked my car once more to place the ticket in the windscreen, before making sure I had everything I needed for my interview. I half recognised the place I was going to, maybe I had been there before, it looked like it housed other businesses as well as the one I was due to visit. On entering the building I looked at the inner lobby wall and saw yet another ‘elaborate’ security system, and buzzed to be allowed in. Up the carpeted stairwell – no expense spared here then, even a few potted ferns to soften an otherwise clinical atmosphere. Now I faced the problem while I sat waiting to go in, how would I make this area more conducive to its’ purpose? Maybe a better colour than this insipid green, to start with. I never could understand how I saw the way places could be improved to create that first impression – why couldn’t others see it too?

Another day, another clipboard girl – maybe somewhere in the country there was an agency that just hired girls and gave them clipboards to see if they had the right look when holding this particular prop. I was ushered from one room of insipid green to another of the brightest yellow, long and narrow with a glass-walled office at one end and a bank of lockers at the other. Oh and more of those staffroom chairs. Maybe they shared the same supplier as Brightsparkz?

I definitely ought to have brought a pair of shades however. That yellow was awful, and whoever thought to team it with the violet carpet? These contrasting colours belonged surely not in a place of business but some young designer’s apartment on the riverside. Clipboard girl told me someone would be with me soon. As I sat down, the door opened once again and a group of nervous-looking people entered, clutching what looked like driving licenses. And some had passports. Along one wall of this long narrow office I now noticed that the adjoining room was part glazed, and inside were small booths with vdu’s set up in each one. A set of rather large and unbecoming headphones hung over the back of each swivel chair. The earpieces brought to mind Cliff Richard being wired for sound in a large shopping mall, roller skating for all he was worth. Quite a lot actually so I’m told.

I was beginning to gain an understanding of the sort of thing that went on in this office, as a woman walked up to the small gathering and told them to go through. She looked over at me and smiled. Was I with the others? Going on a hunch, I simply smiled and waved my driving licence at her.