Usually my day consist of writing while I do the various tasks of a housewife. Laundry, dishes, preparing dinner, phone calls and filling our forms for my kids various school needs. Sometimes I can sit for an hour in morning and have 3 cups of green tea and take a 45-minute nap. Today I got up, made lunch for everyone, got myself dressed (forgot my own lunch) and headed down to the unemployment office for the orientation at 9:30.
The room was full of all kinds of people from various types of freelancers, veterans, students, office workers and a woman who needed an interpreter who spoke Polish. The supervisor of this hour was clearly very annoyed. "We don't have anyone here who speaks Polish, why didn't you bring someone with you?" I felt bad for the Polish lady. I wished I spoke Polish. We were asked to line up at the front, hand in the letter sent by the Department of Labor and show ID. I couldn't find my letter, but surprisingly no yelled at me. My name was on the appointment list.
Our host who ran the orientation was a hoot. She reminded me of a Sunday school teacher I had. She actually called a couple of people "baby” as in “baby it’s gonna be all right.” I was waiting for her to start passing out peppermints. As she fiddled with the projection machine for the power-point presentation she told us, she only had two more years to go. "Could you imagine doing this every day, sometimes twice?" I couldn't. She told us we did very well after the 15-minute screening. She demonstrated what most people looked like after the viewing. Heads titled back, mouth open. At the end of the session more workers from the Labor Department came in and called out the names of people who they already had prospective jobs for. The rest of us could continue to look for work on-line, visit the resource room (this felt so 4th grade) and continue to call in each week.
I haven't seen a check yet, but I figure Christmas is coming. If things get real bad, I can make Christmas cookies and banana bread, crochet potholders and picture frames for Kwanzaa and set up shop on 125th street with all the other hustlers.
I continued my day by going to Bryant Park and reviewing writing jobs. I have seven job searches to list on my work search record for the Department of Labor. I’ve a list at home and a bunch of cover letters that have gone out to various prospective leads.
From there I went in search of a Halloween costume for my four-year-old. The Jacks 99 cents store had great wigs for $4.99. I bought the perfect wig for myself. I've been thinking about being Condoleezza Rice. All I need is a pair of black high-heeled boots. Then I can be Condoleezza-Goes-Russian-Dominatrix. There were no costumes for little boys left at this location. Unless you count the sailor costume. Too dance recital.
Next stop Kay Bee Toys. Only Darth Vader and Ninjas left. Too angry, too violent.
Finally in the Kmart, there is a sea of costumes. They are just around the corner from the large snowman in the bubble with fake snow falling on him. Everything is so Christmas already. If you don't get your stuff now, come Thanksgiving, everything will be gone. I hate shopping. I hate being in the stores period. Especially the Kmart on 34th street. This is a must shop week. Yesterday my husband broke the toilet seat, so I had to go get that. (Don’t ask. All I know is my son was so filled with glee, because he wasn’t in trouble this time.) These are the duties of those without a swipe card and an employee ID number.
While searching for the batman costume, I realize I've lost the bag from the Jacks 99-cents store, in the Kmart. I circle the area twice. I didn't even realize when I put it down. With the Batman costume in hand I go to customer service to see if someone has turned it in. The woman at the counter starts ringing up the sale before I can get my question out. She half laughs, and says "The 99-cents store? Somebody has that, you can forget it." So much for customer service. I don't make an issue of it. Do I call the manager because she was insensitive to an unemployed woman's $16.99 worth of Halloween fun and fantasy? I swipe my credit card. The machine asks for my zip code. I tell her I don't wish to give my zip code. She hands me the slip to sign. She doesn't give me a pen. When I request a pen, she slams one down on the counter. I still don't request the manager. Is it worth getting someone in trouble on this job? The pay is probably why she is so cranky.
So, I'm out $16.99. My receipt with my signature was in the bag. I worry a bit. Then tell myself to get real. Is anyone picking up a 99-cents store bag running a racket for identity theft as well? Probably not. It could be worse. I could be that person picking up the left bag. I could be working at the Kmart.
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