IF.

(With the most humble apologies to Rudyard Kipling.)

If you can learn to suffer fools right gladly,

And answer all their questions with a smile,

While inwardly you're cursing at them madly,

And every moment seems to be a trial'

If you can learn to deal with every query,

And never make your answer "I don't know,"

But sit and be polite until you're weary,

Until the moment comes for you to go.

If you can `phone and yet not tire of `phoning,

Or being `phoned up do not deal in lies'

Or being worried, don't give way to moaning,

And yet don't look too good or talk too wise'

If you can get each message done directly,

It comes into the office from downstairs,

And have them all distributed correctly

Without a tinge of greyness in your hairs.

If you can to your table promptly wander

At nine ack emma every blessed day,

And then explain to an irate commander

Why all his beastly signals went astray;

If you can in your mind "for information"

A twenty three nought seven messages bear,

And from a truly vast conglomeration

Of miscellaneous signals keep it clear.

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs, and everything's a whirl'

And not despair when brass hats simply doubt you –

You'll be a coding officer, my girl!