Pam Pryor, 70, from Melton, had her first shift as a lollipop lady in 1974 - the first year crossing surpervisors were formally introduced and paid. She initially took the job to support her family (and pay for smokes and petrol) and serviced crossings for four years, before leaving to have her daughter. But she returned two years later and has continued ever since. "You are the first smile some kids see in the morning," Ms Pryor muses to Ms Ramadge when they meet for the first time at the Wandin crossing. "They tell you if they’ve had their worm tablet, or if they’ve got nits," Mr Pryor says. "Or if their mum’s pregnant," Ms Ramadge adds. After multiple fatalities involving children and school crossings in the early 1970s, then-premier Rupert Hamer felt compelled to fix the problem. Now there are about 3500 lollipop people at work on our streets.

School crossing supervisor Theo Miller on Burwood Road in Hawthorn, 1979. Credit:File image Supervisors are employed by local councils and more than 15 metropolitan councils boast employees with more than 20 years' tenure. But the Pams leave the others in the rearview mirror. "I actually started before supervisors were paid, working with a mothers' group. I started in September and was supposed to do it until Christmas," Ms Ramadge says. Ms Pryor was 25 when she started. She continues to do it because it is a good subsidy for the aged pension and it gives her life routine.

Whether the role of crossing supervisor attracts a certain type of person or manifests one it is impossible to say. But both Pams are pulled into their role by the whimsy and innocence the children bring to their lives each day. "I’ve thought about finishing up before but the parents say 'you can’t leave'. If I wasn’t here I would miss the children," Ms Ramadge says. Pam Ramadge (left) and Pam Pryor. Credit:Chris Hopkins At her crossing on Beenak Road in Wandin North a mother collecting her child calls out to Ms Ramadge, "you’re not going anywhere … you’d miss us too much!" Ms Pryor agrees: "I love the innocence of the children."

The similarities between the women don't end at their names and jobs. Astonishingly, when they meet for the first time for a photo for The Age, the pair discover they both have a tattoo of a blue butterfly on their left wrist. Ms Ramadge got hers with a friend she made at the crossing she surpervised. The woman who used the crossing with her children each day wanted a tattoo, "but didn't want to do it on her own", Pam says. "So I went with her." Looking at Ms Pryor's tattoo, Ms Ramadge exclaims: "Ah they are the same. Mine is an Australian butterfly, Ulysses butterfly it's called." Both Pams have a blue butterfly tattoo on their wrist. Credit:Chris Hopkins

Ms Ramadge hides her blue butterfly behind long sleeves and had it done so that it is small enough to be covered by a large watch, but she shows it off proudly to her colleague in high-vis. Ms Pryor's butterfly is for her family, namely her grandchildren. She has another tattoo for one of her sons who died in a road accident. "When Shane died the council were very good to me," she says. She takes some solace today in keeping the kids at her crossing safe. School Crossings Victoria is a not-for-profit which supports councils and school crossing supervisors across the state.

Dreena Lawrence-Gray is chair of the organisation and said mental stimulation, along with compatible working hours and an income of about $60 a day which does not particularly affect the pension, is a major reason for typically-long tenures of supervisors. "They’re there to do more than just help people cross," she said. "The job has been a saviour for many, many people. It gives them a purpose and reason to get up in the morning. They are literally saving their own lives as well as saving the kids' lives." Yvonne Wilson in 1989 at the Preston crossing she supervised for 12 years. Credit:File image Many years ago, Ms Pryor was taken from her post outside Melton West Primary School and re-stationed outside the local high school where the council and VicRoads thought she was needed more.

"I was not looking forward to it and I thought the kids would be horrible. Then on my first day there I see the first boy coming up towards me and he walks up and says, ‘oh do we get a crossing lady now? Oh, grouse!’ Gee I could have hugged him right there and then." But "the parents at Melton West wrote in to the council saying they wanted me back, so they sent me back". In 1980, lollipop man Jock Read made himself conspicuous to Eltham motorists by riding Eddie, one his three horses, while on the job. Credit:File image They both enjoy their job and see no reason to stop.