Shelf-stacking gave me a sense of direction I wasn't even much use at any task that involved a modicum of brain power. A couple of the older lads used to enjoy doing the newspaper crossword during their lunch breaks. They would call me over when stuck on a particularly fearsome clue. Invariably I couldn't help. "What subject are you doing at university, again?" they would ask, after I'd failed yet again to unravel an anagram. English, I would tell them. "English?" they would chortle in amazement. Then how come you don't know anything about words? The widespread attitude was summarised by the foreman, who chose an apt grocery metaphor to assess my skill level. "If you're the cream of the country, Bamber," he once said after I had spent a couple of hours stacking apples on to shelf space clearly designated for pears, "then God help the skimmed milk." I soon realised that, as a process to ensure that I did not suffer from any sense of superiority, it was brilliantly conceived. Just one shift chucking boxes into a mechanical crusher was enough to challenge any hint of complacency. After it had been crushed, the cardboard had to be loaded on to a van driven by a wild-eyed man called Lol, who had a notoriously short temper. What do you want to do with your life, then Bamber? Lol would often ask me. I'd tell him I really hadn't decided. Well whatever you do, I wouldn't recommend my job. It's all pressure. Snootily, I wondered what sort of pressure could be involved in collecting used cardboard. Until one day he didn't show up at the appointed time. It turned out that he had been hospitalised by a rival recycling gang, who had for some time been threatening to move in on his territory. I still often think of Lol and his cardboard when I am tempted to moan about the pressures entailed in meeting a deadline. Indeed, there was much about that vacation job - its chastening assumption of incompetence, the endless capacity it had to bring me down to earth with a bump - that I look back on with a degree of gratitude. Granted, little I have done since has made me feel quite so useless. But, if nothing else, it made me determined never to return there after my studies were over. In many ways, it was while stacking shelves that I discovered true ambition.