News that the NSW Government plans to ban smoking in outdoor areas, including bus stops, taxi ranks, playgrounds and public entries to buildings, took me back to a different time in community attitudes to tobacco use.My first job involved selling cigarettes, and I was just 12 years old at the time.Not just cigarettes, mind you. My main line was newspapers, which I sold for the newsagent to morning commuters at Gordon railway station in Sydney's northern suburbs.I operated a little trolley loaded with papers, magazines, Lifesavers and cigarettes, at the bottom of the ramp leading to the platforms. I'd be there every morning, finishing at the end of the morning rush with just enough time to get to school for morning assembly.The papers were the biggest sellers, but cigarettes were where the big profits were made. I quickly learned the art of "up-selling", knowing which customers smoked what brands and making sure that I offered them a pack with their paper.It seems an impossible scenario now. These days anyone selling cigarettes to someone under 18 is actually committing an offence, but back in 1967 no-one gave a hoot if a little kid was the one selling the smokes.On my last day in the job I decided to sell myself a packet of ciggies, to see what the fuss was all about. Now, 45 five years on, I can remember it like it was yesterday.I bought a 12-pack of Rothmans, and tried to smoke them all on my way home. Needless to say, I arrived home very sick, with a face the colour of pea soup. When I finally confessed the reason for my illness, my mother didn't know whether to be furious at my stupidity or relieved that my condition wasn't life-threatening.At least, mum said, I would learn a lesson and never smoke again.Sadly, I was not that sensible. In my later teens I fell under the tobacco spell, thinking that drawing hard on a burning tube of paper filled with tobacco and then blowing smoke out of my nose and mouth made me look so grown-up and sophisticated.Fortunately, some years later I fell under the (much more powerful) spell of a girl who had no intention of marrying a smoker, and I gave the fags away. Lucky me, on two counts.More than 30 years later, I, like most reformed smokers, can hardly believe I indulged in the filthy habit and resent any smoke intruding on my "air space".I feel sorry for the poor buggers of my generation who are still smoking, and wonder when some tobacco-related illness will prematurely end their lives.I pity the poor nicotine addicts who huddle in sad little groups outside their workplaces, furtively dragging on their fags. I shake my head at the foolishness of the kids who still take up smoking to look "cool", and wonder how they can possibly afford it.I applaud all the anti-smoking ads, especially the ones aimed at parents urging them to quit for their children's sake. And I support these latest moves to make it even harder for smokers to light up in public places.Trouble is, I just don't know how these new rules can possibly be policed.