For the past 4 months or so I’ve been traveling everywhere, which is made easier by the fact that I am living in my car because I am unemployed and can’t afford the apartment for which I signed a year long lease exactly one week before I was laid off. My two jobs, although I am technically unemployed from paid work, are currently researching and writing my thesis, and furiously (fruitlessly) job searching.
Since I’ve landed back in Dallas, there has been progress made on the former- I might just graduate, y’all, I might not mess this all up- but no progress, thus far, on the latter. As luck would have it though, the Constitution of a little place called the USA happens to call for a census to be taken. And, as further luck would have it, the universe and God and my parents and biology conspired to plan that I would be born at the perfect time to eventually be unemployed during a census year, specifically a census year where high profile cases of people shooting strangers on their doorsteps has made some people a little skittish about taking a job with the description ‘encounter strangers on their doorsteps’.
Apparently armed US Marshalls used to take the census, but that was eventually deemed a little intimidating (fair), so they’ve been recruiting (unarmed) citizens ever since. Turns out the fear of getting castle doctrined in the face thanks to a 2nd amendment home security policy means that people like me (read- desperate people) have their pick of the census job gig this year. We’ve circled all the way around from armed, intimidating census workers to armed homeowners intimidating census workers.
That’s the convoluted backstory of how I found myself sitting in a musty rec center downtown, applying to work for the government by going door to door and asking questions of the people answering said doors. That’s also the backstory for why I am a bit anxious about my future unwilling co-workers, the people answering said doors.
Let’s cut to the chase, because even for me that was an interminable introductory ramble. The interview included a test based selection process, as well as some group observations to make sure we were reasonably well equipped to talk with strangers. There was, strangely, no training on avoiding a deadly encounter with an irate homeowner who thinks you are an agent of the state sent to spy on their home, and there was no mention of safety concerns, which struck me as an important omission, but I don’t make the rules, I just show up to absolutely anywhere I might be vaguely promised to be given money in exchange for hours of my only human life.
There were six of us, which was small enough for everyone to see everyone else’s human failings. For example, unfortunately a few couldn’t read the map, which is arguably an important skill for traveling about unfamiliar neighborhoods. One person thought they were applying for another job entirely, and left. And then we have to talk about the actual process- it’s hard to adequately explain the time capsule absurdity, but I think this one example will do.
Exhibit A: I could watch TV on my cell phone with perfect internet reception on the third level deep subway line in Tokyo, but here in the US the government is still using pens and papers and manila folders. Not a computer in sight. We do it all… on paper. No online forms, no database, nothing.
The whole ordeal was weird, socially awkward, and frankly was a searing reminder of just how desperate I was for money. The atmosphere didn’t necessarily impart any dignity upon us, either.
More than once I felt like the setting itself was a parody of our experience, mocking us, like a Wes Anderson hand had been cast over the stage to amplify our absurdity.
We were seated in a side gym, perched on mismatched chairs, fumbling with manila folders and cartoonishly simple maps. All the while huge poster board butterflies were spinning in aimless circles from the ceiling above us, and a fake wood fire blazed next to us, remnants, I imagine of some art camp for children. It sounds bleak, because it was. Because I feel bleak. I’m tired of being unemployed, I’m tired of being back in debt after working so hard to get out, I’m tired of clipping coupons and paying my friends rent with baskets of razors and soap, I’m tired of thinking about the apartment I rented and painted and then had to move out of, I’m tired of keeping everything I own in my car. I’m just tired.
But in the end I aced the test, and hopefully that plus my supervisory experience plus my grad degree and the fact that I don’t have a felony will earn me a spot on the team. Honestly, probably just being able to read the map got me in, but humor me and reassure me that my student loans were worth it.
It’s actually a pretty decent job for a temporary, part-time hourly gig at $17-$19 an hour, so I’m hoping I can keep this up through the spring and pair it with a real full time job. I’d like to take this moment to give a shout out to having only car/health insurance and a cell phone to pay for (I’m just ignoring how my student loans have skyrocketed, let me live in denial a bit here). Also shout out to my friends for letting me live in their homes in exchange for cleaning duties and gifts of couponed groceries/toiletries. It’s awesome, and without it I’d probably be too stressed out/insane/wandering the streets crying to be able to spend time sarcastically ripping the census process and snarking on the only job, literally the only one, that has come near me since I was laid off in a recession.
Moral of the story- government jobs pay relatively well for part-time work, but are sought after by strange people. I am strange people, for sure. Perhaps an addendum to the moral of the story is that rec centers make questionable decor choices. Final point- pray that I don’t end up on the news after a doorstep shooting. I’m just trying to make a living, and I don’t want to die doing it.
Maybe that’s too much to ask at this point.
Originally written December 16th, 2009. Since I am currently on track to slide back into unemployment come June 2022 (this time planned, sought after, welcomed unemployment) I thought this story was relevant. I’m still piecing this site together with old, new, and previously unpublished writings, so look forward to ricocheting through time and space to the soundtrack of my first person ramblings.
