The next morning I was up, showered, fed, and on the way to the unemployment office by seven. I found the place easier than I thought I would. It didn't open until eight, so I stood by the door using my aluminum cane to lean on. Several people came up to the door and rattled it. When I pointed to the sign with my cane that gave the hours they each cursed turned and walked away. My thought was no sense in leaving if this was where you needed to be.
When the door opened, I spotted a take a number machine so I pulled the first tab available then stood by an aisle as I thought I would be called first. No such luck. My number was one seventy-three and the number called was one fifty-one. An older man in work clothes got up and went to the window. I had not thought that people from the day before had numbers and were going to be waiting this morning. Nothing left to do but sit down and wait.
With eight workers interviewing applicants, it only took forty-five minutes to be called. After explaining my position, the lady handed me a stack of forms and told me to fill them out then bring them back to her. I only needed to come up and stand near her window and she would help me as soon as the person she was working with left.
It took over a half-hour to fill out all of the forms. Once the woman was helping me again, she said I might not be eligible for benefits as I was receiving a benefit from the Veterans administration. She went to check with her supervisor, then came back to tell me that I was entitled to unemployment benefits and would receive my first check two weeks from the date of my discharge.
When she acted as if I were dismissed, I asked, "Don't you folks also help unemployed people find a job? Most of the information I just filled out is like a job application."
She looked at me as if I had a big pimple on my nose then said, "Do you really want to find a job?"
"Yes ma'am, I do. If you look at the forms I do have several qualifications that would suit me to many jobs. When I was looking at the classified ads last night there weren't any that looked like I was going to be qualified for."
"Let me assign you to a career counselor so you can be guided in the right direction." The lady picked up her phone, spoke a few minutes, then wrote a name and number on a pad.
She tore off the top piece of paper from the pad and handed it to me. "Please go to the third floor and speak with Lorna Williams in room 312. Ms. Williams is a career counselor for military personnel re-entering the work force."
I nodded, smiled, and made my way toward a sign that said "Elevator."
Room 312 had a closed door, so I knocked on the door and waited for someone to grant me entry. I knocked again but much louder and waited again listening.
A short fat little man with Coke bottle glasses opened the door next to the 312 and said, "Lorna is not here. She just left on break. If you will come back in a half hour, she should be back."
I looked up and down the hallway and didn't see any chairs and didn't remember any in the elevator vestibule. I decided to just stand there and wait, thinking that it was pretty rude to know someone is on their way up to see you, and to take off like that.
Forty-five minutes later the little fat man came out of his office and looked at me. "Did you just come back or have you been here all this time?"
I didn't answer but waited, listening for what he had to say. He raised his eyebrows and said, "You must have missed her as she came back from her break but just left for the day to take care of personal business."
You know the feeling, a cross between anger, disappointment, and frustration. It makes you shiver with the cold anger that swirls through your body.
I nodded then went to the elevators and went back to stand at the clerk's window I had been served at originally. When the person she had been helping left she asked me what the problem was.
After explaining what had just transpired she picked up her phone and made a call. While she was talking, I could see her face turn red as she became perturbed. I heard her ask, "Where the hell are you? You're not in your office as a man with a bad leg and cane waited for you to come back from your break. How did I just call you and where the hell are you?"
The worker listened for a few minutes then slammed the phone down. She pointed her finger at my side of the counter and said, "You stay right where you are. I have to see my supervisor."
Less than five minutes later, another lady came to the window with the worker and said, "Mr. Johnson, I'm sorry you had to wait for someone that wasn't present. Could you give us your phone number and we will call you with an appointment time?"
I closed my eyes and opened them slowly, "I don't have a phone and probably can't afford one for a while or at least until I can get a job. I need to work to feed myself. I used most of my exit money to rent a place to live, purchase transportation, and some clothes from Goodwill so I can get a job and have a way to get to it. Please, do you by any chance have a job for someone right here?"
The supervisor looked at me funny, "Would you work here? In an office, helping unemployed people? It's not the best place in the world to work?"
I wasn't trying to be a wise guy, but I had to ask, "Do you get paid, do you have a nice home with a telephone?"
She almost frowned then smiled and asked, "Can you type?"
I nodded.
"Would you take an aptitude and typing test?"
I nodded again.
The lady laughed and said, "Perhaps you need to have a talking examination instead of a typing test. Come with me. Go to the far end where there is a gate and come through there."
The supervisor had garnered my stack of forms that I had filled out and led me to a small conference room. She seated me, then left and returned with a file folder. She handed me three number two pencils and a group of forms and said, "Please take your time and answer each of these questions to the best of your ability. This is an aptitude questionnaire. It is designed to identify your most effective work areas. There is no time limit. If you need to use the restroom, there is one out this door and to your right. There is also a drinking fountain there. Please see me in my office when you're finished. It is the first door on your left."
There were six sheets of paper with questions on each side. The print was very small and a little smudged. If you didn't have good eyesight, it would be impossible to complete the forms.
There were no trick questions, but they did ask the same thing in different ways about ten times for every question. It took an hour and fifteen minutes to complete all the questions. It was now eleven fifty and people would be going to lunch. I went next door, fully expecting the supervisor to be gone to lunch.
The door was open, so I knocked on the door jam. She looked up and said, "Come in." She held her hand out for the papers and said, "Please sit for a minute."
While sitting I watched as she took a form with holes in it and began counting where I had filled in the little box. Her desk was reasonably neat with some file folders and a pad. There was a large name display. It said, "Metarie White."
I had to smile as Metarie White was a very, very dark skinned lady. She was an, what should she be called now, African American? Black? To me she was just a person, so she was just Ms. White.
It seemed to take as long to grade and define the test as it did to take it. She looked up and asked, "Are you familiar with a computer keyboard?"
I nodded.
"Yes ma'am would do better than a nod, Mr. Johnson."
"Yes ma'am."
She chuckled. "Please have a seat at the computer to your right. Turn it on and when it finishes booting I'll tell you the program to use."
One thing the Marines do have is computers. They have computers in the barracks, computers in the library, computers in the day rooms, even computers in the chow hall. If you didn't know how to boot up a computer and read directions, you would never know what you were assigned to do from day to day.
Upon boot up, I asked and was told what program to use. Ms. White told me to put on the headset and use the mouse to start the test. She said the first one would be to let me warm up and the second would be the timed event.
Hallelujah, I had done something right in high school. I had taken two computer classes. The first semester was only typing, then we learned how various programs worked.
Upon completing the typing test, a full screen came on with the number ninety-six flashing on the screen. When I turned to advise Ms. White, she was already looking and said, "Hit escape." She paused then gave me another program to find. There wasn't a screen icon for it, so I had to go to the XP program list to find it.
Once I had the program booted, Ms. White reached over my shoulder and asked me to enter the information she had derived when she graded my aptitude questionnaire.
This took almost fifteen minutes. I clicked on the "submit" icon and a printer next to Ms. White's desk whirred and spit out several printed sheets.
She looked over them and occasionally kept referring to the application form that I had filled out downstairs.
"I know you have not had lunch, Mr. Johnson, so would you like to accompany me to the restaurant next door. The big rush should just about be over, so we should be able to get a table. Let me take these with me." She gathered up all the papers she had held and put them in a folder." As she got up from her desk, she said, "This will be Dutch. I'm not allowed to buy lunch for a prospective or existing employee."
I nodded, but said, "Yes ma'am."
Metarie White smiled broadly that I had answered her.
The restaurant was a cross between a self-serve cafeteria and a serving line. I chose a Cuban sandwich that a cafeteria worker put into the presser for me. I also got a large ice tea.
Upon sitting down, Ms. White said, "You have good manners, Mr. Johnson. You held every door, you had me precede you in the serving line, and finally you even seated me at the table. Manners are important and I look for them in prospective employees. Your aptitude questionnaire says you would do well in our environment and that you would make a good team member, as well as an eventual leader. You do not have any experience other than your military training and combat experience. You did not finish a degree in school, but you scored very high in the general knowledge area which is usually only accomplished after finishing a degree program. Eat up Mr. Johnson and let me think about this."
We ate leisurely without stuffing our food into our mouths and gulping it down. After wiping her mouth with her napkin and laying it on her plate, I asked, "Can I get us a cup of coffee or would that make us late returning?"
"That would be wonderful. Black, please, and this is still part of the interview process."
Back at the table, we were sipping our coffee when Ms. White began, "I'm reluctant to hire you as a general clerk as it is really boring, plus you have to deal with some unsavory people every day. I have need for a new person to help military people re-enter the work force, but that position is posted requiring a degree in human resources. You recognize that you have to work to earn money to enjoy life, so you are more than halfway to getting a job. Now, I just have to find a place for you."
She drank some more of her coffee then said, "I need a temporary secretarial staff member for about sixty days. The permanent secretary is out on maternity leave. This position also requires substituting as an interview clerk to give breaks in the morning and afternoon. You will work one hour, giving four breaks in the morning, and one hour in the afternoon, giving four breaks then as well. I'll send you out to work with the window clerks a full day before you have to relieve anyone. If you work fast, you will finish one person at each substitution. The first few days you will be longer trying to get the interview complete, but you will become quick very fast."
"The secretarial position requires some transcription, filling out forms, filing, answering calls for your immediate supervisor, and assisting your supervisor to fulfill their responsibilities. What do you think; want to work as a secretary to see how you react to an office?"
I didn't frown, but I must have had a sour look on my face, "What would this temporary position pay? I'm sure it would be at least what unemployment pays and I wouldn't have to go get food stamps."
"Temps begin at twelve dollars an hour, with permanent secretarial and interview clerks earning up to eighteen dollars an hour. You will receive an extra two dollars a day for working two hours at the window. That position pays a dollar an hour premium."
It didn't take me long to figure out I could live on the four eighty a week, but I thought I could probably eventually find a better job. I needed to go to the VA hospital to get checked in and to get my health club membership for continued rehab. That would be a life time freebie.
"Ms. White, I will take your position and consider it temporary while I seek better employment. I need the job and you need the worker. I'm sure I will fulfill the responsibilities the job requires. I can start in the morning if you wish but this afternoon I have to go to the VA to check in and to find a new gym for my rehab."
"Good, come to the back door by seven-fifty in the morning and come to my office. I will have you sign your W-4 and we will get you started."
We stood and I escorted her back to her door, then went out to my pickup a little lighter on my feet. I would have a job to take up some slack on finances. I'd sure like to keep my little savings intact in case I need something for a rainy day.
The VA experience was a total wait and see. It took an hour wait to get my interview and a new card, and it took another hour to get in to see the clerk who gave me a local "Lifestyles" gym card. She said that if I would prefer Gold's Gym or the YMCA, I could switch, but Lifestyles were all over the area and had a contract with the VA.
When I finished, I found the employment office and asked for an application. After I filled it out, the clerk looked up my DD214 on the computer and said, "The only thing we have open right now is on the security team. I don't think you would qualify with your disability. They are regular policemen out here and have to do what a regular policeman does. I will keep your application and send it around. As you get other outside experience, come back and update your application, okay?"
That was disappointing. A guy doesn't like to be told that "you can't do something physically."
Oh well, it was five-fifteen, time to go home and have a beer.
I parked the truck in front of the apartment and went into the stuffy place. I propped the front door open, then opened the back door and the bedroom window. I checked the bike to make sure it was still there, then went to the fridge to get a beer. Thinking about it, I got two out and went to Shirley's back door to bang on it. Before I knocked, I could see her at an ironing board working on a shirt. She had the radio on a country station, listening to someone wail. I called out, "Hey Shirley, want a beer?"
She jumped, then set the iron down and hung up the shirt. She came out the back door and sat in a lawn chair, pointing at another one sitting across from her.
It took the whole beer to tell her what all I had done and that I was employed as of tomorrow morning. It wasn't a big wage, but it would do until I found something better. I figured if I was working at the employment office, I would have a lot opportunity to find out about jobs. I would also have time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
Shirley was the smart one as she asked, "What kind of clothes do you have to wear to this job?"
My face must have told the story as all I could remember was men in shirts and ties and in one case a guy in a dressy shirt without a tie. All the men had on decent slacks and dress shoes.
Shirley said, "Come on, lets go up to the thrift store real quick to see if we can find some pants and shirts in your size. If they don't have anything we'll still have time to run to Wal-Mart for something."
Shirley locked her place up and I did the same, remembering to shut the bedroom window. The thrift store wasn't far and was about the same as the Goodwill, but bigger. Their hand-me-downs were not in as good a shape as those at the Goodwill, but it could have been because they were picked through faster.
We did find two pair of slacks that fit and three dress shirts that were still nice, plus Shirley found some ties that were very nice. The shoe bin was just that. There were several bins of shoes. A bin for each size but they were still pretty mixed up. I gave up after fifteen minutes, saying that my military dress shoes will work. They are already shiny and are easy to cleanup.
Shirley had found a pair of jeans and a tank top for herself, along with another dress of the type she likes. I paid for everything and we headed back to the apartment. Shirley said she needed to get my stuff in the washer real quick, as the pants needed to be hung to dry. She had me get out of the clothes I wore today so she could wash them as well, so if I needed to, I could wear them in the morning.
I started dinner, but was stopped and told in a very firm voice that she would be back to fix dinner soon. She told me to have a beer and watch TV or something.
I put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then did as directed. I opened a beer and sat on the couch watching the cable news channel. Nothing happening, just the usual, the new prez is trying to get out of Iraq as fast as he can tuck his tail between his legs and run, because all of his supporters expect him to do that. I think the man knows our presence there is important and that we should remain for a while, if for no other reason, to help teach the Iraq Army what to do. War and politics suck. War isn't important if nothing is getting blown up in front of people. But let the war be far away and we forget about why we are fighting because it doesn't keep us from getting our Latte or see that special movie.
After supper, I asked Shirley if she was up for a ride to Jonah's and she said she was, but wanted to be back in about an hour and a half as she needed to get my clothes ready for in the morning.
We rode down to Jonah's and had a beer. The place wasn't as crowded and Shirley and I actually got to shoot a game of pool. We had a second beer then split for home. Nice to get out and ride a little.
At home, I washed up the dishes while Shirley was doing whatever she was doing with clothes.
About ten, Shirley came in carrying my new stuff on hangers. It looked good enough to think it might be pretty new. I thanked Shirley and gave her a ten asking if that was enough. She laughed and said, "Yep, ten bucks, a full belly, a full pussy, and a warm cuddly bed to sleep in. Well worth it."
I laughed, "So I'm the one selling favors now?"
Shirley laughed and said, "I'm definitely a buyer. Let me go shower and I'll be right back. Wait for me."
I locked up the front, checked the lock on the bike, opened the bedroom window, and shut off most of the lights. I had just sat down in front of the TV when Shirley came back, in her robe with her towel turban. We sat on the couch and watched TV as I brushed out her hair. After a while, Shirley asked if I wanted a massage, but I said, "Let's just cuddle up and get some sleep. You've had a big day too from all that laundry I saw in your place."
"I've got three more people giving me stuff. This will really take care of my bills. Since you're helping with food, I'm set. If my Bubba decides to come home it's going to play hell with my diet, but he usually comes home with a stash and stays till he runs out from smoking it up or drinking it up. I don't know why, but I really do love that guy. Maybe one of these days he'll settle down."
I was holding Shirley with her head against my shoulder when I noticed her breathing change. She was asleep. I closed my eyes and joined her.