Random Acts

An HR person from the hospice called this morning to ask me for some information. The IT guy who interviewed me forgot to get me to fill out an application, so she had to ask me to email it in order to legally check my references. Like everyone else, she seemed very nice. She said she would call me this afternoon to possibly make an offer…and I will have to take a pre-employment drug test in order for everything to get going. I haven’t had to take a drug test since I was working for the Harley dealership…and I remember being annoyed that I had to then because I took it personally. Sometimes I wonder how anyone survives through young adulthood.
I don’t know how everything is going to work out. My Fruit has been so sad lately, and I worry about her all the time. I was hoping that my working would help take some of the pressure off of her, but I don’t know if that is going to be the case or not. I really feel like the best thing for us would be to sell the house and move close to her family…but I’ve never moved that far before. I was terrified just moving the two hundred miles to her house the first time around…and now we would be packing up the three kids and moving across the country. It wouldn’t be so bad, in a sense, if they were human children. At least then we could all sit together on the plane. There should be a pet friendly airline that allows well behaved, large dogs on the flight. It would have to be one of those big planes with a little dog run in the back. I guess it wouldn’t be the safest thing, but it sure sounds better than the option of putting them in crates and turning them over to strangers…hoping to see them again safely on the other side. Maybe a dog friendly cruise line would be a better idea.
No matter what, I have a lot of work to do today. I need to get the house clean and in order for when I do go back to work…and I want everything to be perfect for my Fruit when she gets home.

I am wide awake, and my Fruit is off on the freeway for her long trek to work. The sun will not rise by the time she gets there, and the air of sleepiness will not have ascended from the city. It is ghostly quiet outside. Even the chirps and clicks of nocturnal creatures cannot be heard…and I am wide awake.
I used to get up this early years ago…when I was working in stock rooms and unloading trucks. Even at this quiet hour of the morning, there was activity there. The early morning busses hummed by, and third shift employees drearily mixed amongst the other poor bastards on their way to earn a living. The flourescent glow of all-night donut shops mixed with the stark yellow of the street lights as their humble inhabitants drained their second cups of coffee. Those early hours in L.A. seemed to showcase people at their most authentic. Nobody ever said a word, but our story always seemed understood. I think that midnight to five provides the best people watching in that city. I never minded waking up, even though I was exhausted from the long days and short nights.
My grandma used to get up for work at four in the morning. Often, she would just wake up at three even after she had retired. She worked at the hospital for over twenty years and was very angry when they forced her to retire. I don’t know what she used to do there, but I remember pulling up outside the building in my mom’s old Falcon to see her standing on the curb in her white lab coat, holding a clipboard. Sometimes she would have a toy for me from the gift shop…but, the only one I remember clearly was given to me when I had the flu. It was a little white dog that walked and barked…and I played with it until the batteries mysteriously disappeared. I didn’t understand then why she wouldn’t want to stop working…and now I wonder what she did with herself, all alone in that little house. My mother would get annoyed with her when she complained about how lonely she was. It was just her and her cat, social security check to the next…home, to church, to the store and home again until the year she got sick. We used to go there every weekend to see her, and now I understand with profound clarity how much she must have looked forward to those days. She was always afraid that she would die alone and be forgotten after she died. It must be difficult not to think of things like that when you’re all alone, day and night until those brief weekend visits. Her fears have proven unfounded…she did not die alone. Almost thirteen years have passed since that cold, damp December night…and I still miss her like it was yesterday.
It’s seven after four, and I can’t stop wondering where my Fruit is in her journey to the office. I am very worried about her being out this early. I keep thinking that I’ll look out the window to the daylight, and am shocked every time I see that it is still dark. She would want me to go back to sleep, but I wouldn’t even consider it until I know that she is safe. I don’t know how to begin to repay her for all that she does for us. She works so hard, and I want so badly to show her how much I appreciate all that she is and all that she does. There has got to be a way that we could live happily and comfortably together without her having to do so much. I don’t need much. I just want her, our family and a stable roof…materials and geography are of little relevance. Fruit, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love you.

I think the second interview went well, although it’s always difficult to say. Of all the places I’ve gone these last two weeks, I think this one feels like the best fit. In retrospect, I don’t think I like the IT guy at the aerospace type place. I think I liked the idea of the opportunity more than anything…that and the proximity to my Fruit. Without traffic, the hospice is twenty minutes from my girl…which is probably the greatest distance of all the north county places I’ve interviewed at. They seemed to know who I was when I walked through the door this time, and each person I spoke to asked me if I was still interested. I hope that’s a good sign. I wasn’t too impressed with the office when I was there last, but, after the fortress, it was like an oasis. The more I think about that place, the more I dread the idea of working there. I just feel guilty about it, because I really don’t have room to be selective. Nobody has even made any kind of offer, and I’m assuming that the horrible place will. Second interviews always seem like such a good sign…and I guess they are in some ways. They were undecided enough about you the first time around to ask you back. I keep hoping that they’ll think I’m the best choice…if for nothing but my ego. I’ve been feeling a little run down the past few weeks.
I don’t know what I’ll end up doing if this attempt fails. I’ve been going back and forth on the IT front for a year now, and the possibility of a future feels more and more bleak. I don’t know what else to do. Part of me would love to work with children…and another part would be perfectly happy working as a hermit in a room somewhere doing something artistic. I’ve even pondered going back into retail or working in a flower shop or something. I’ve done a lot of shit since I entered the working world. Sometimes I wonder what’s left. I think the best plan of attack is to leave this expensive state to live somewhere simpler and not-so-much. If all else fails, I’m a hell of a receptionist.

I got to the interview yesterday quite quickly. I honestly thought it would take longer to get there at 10:00 than it did, and ended up talking to my fruit for half an hour until it was a reasonable time to walk in. I try not to let the appearances of a building sway my judgement, but, I guess as company first impressions go, it’s a big one. The parking was awful and the sign on the outside was sun bleached and for a different company. I had my Fruit double check the address just in case. As I approached, I was met with black iron gates that extended the length of the property. The closest one had a conspicuous intercom attached, and before I could even push the button, a grainy voice asked if it could be of assistance. The gate buzzed, and then the next door, and this gave way to a miniscule reception area with double thick sliding glass windows and another locked access door. The smiling HR woman gave me an application and told me to ring the bell when I was done. It just didn’t feel right, but, I figured I was just being paranoid. When this step was completed, I was led into another tiny room to take a clerical and basic math test. If I wasn’t confined in the bowels of an impenetrable barrier, I might have left then. I don’t see how a clerical skills test would be a measure for my problem solving skills. It felt more like an insult to my intelligence than a measure of my abilities. When this step concluded, I was led to a conference room across the lot by HR woman and IT guy Jerry. I assumed he was the IT director, but, after this piece of the interview and his lack of questions for me, I was led back into the main fortress for step 3.
This step deserves another paragraph. Being weeded from level to level made me feel like I was playing some kind of twisted game. I had already been there an hour at this point, and my smiling interview composure was beginning to falter. They took me down a claustrophobic hallway and pointed me into a small, dusty room where the IT department resides. There were two desks on each wall, separated by cubicle boards and scattered equipment in the available spaces. The two guys in that room were not unlike rats caught by a flashlight. I shook their hands and smiled, almost afraid of what IT director guy would be like. Another small office was situated across from the rat hole. This was the rat master’s den…lit only by the glow of server monitors, it seemed. Papers covered the desk, and completely pasted over his own computer monitor. The equipment whirred and belched behind me as IT Director guy asked me how he could help me. I reminded him that I was here for the help desk position, and the HR lady thought he might have some technical questions for me. He rambled about his systems for a while, and subsequently took a phone call. Ten minutes or so later, he hung up and asked me where we left off. I wasn’t quite sure at that point, and all I could do was eye the door to the claustrophobic office, yearning to leave. I had been here before. I had been taken from level to level of an interview, knowing full well that I had the job sacked, and not quite sure if I wanted it. It felt like cross between Office Space and One Hour Photo.
I finally emerged a little after noon. I think the rat master was hungry. He had taken much of the time on the phone, and the rest of the time explaining to me what he was on the phone about. He asked me what kind of solutions I think he should consider for their business. I told him that I have a lot of ideas, and I would be happy to discuss them in the future if I was hired. I’m not giving him free service. I wasn’t there as a consultant. I suppose I could have suggested hiring a cleaning person or installing some light fixtures. Perhaps that would have been a little too OC of me. Is it wrong to not want to work in a dirty, claustrophobic environment if it’s the only place to offer you a job in the first place? Granted, they haven’t offered me a position yet, but they did call to ask me back for another interview. I know what that will entail…and I don’t know how to respond.
I have a second interview today for the hospice from last week. I would much prefer this job, even though I would be working in a room with someone else and possibly another set of creepy guys. At least this company is an organization that helps people. The other is just a fortress of filth providing vending machines to the masses. Maybe I should just go back to retail.

The job search has been pretty intense the last couple days. I had three interviews last week, one more this morning and a second interview tomorrow from an interview last Thursday. The house is a mess and I’m exhausted. The odd thing, though, is that some of these interviews are from companies that I submitted my resume to months ago. I can’t even look up the ad anymore because it’s been removed from wherever I found it in the first place. I decided it was best to start with Help Desk. I know I have more experience than that, but, it will be easy work and I’ll look good enough doing it that I could possibly be promoted anyway. If these all fail, maybe we will start our business. The thing I’m worried about is that I’m not a social person. I’m not good at meeting people and peddling my wares. I guess it doesn’t matter much. I have mixed feelings about going back to work. I can’t tell if Fruit is happy or upset, and it makes me feel a little guilty no matter what I do. This is the longest I’ve gone without working since I got my first job, and it feels a little strange going to all of these interviews so out of touch. They ask me technical questions and I slip up on the answers because it’s been a while. I know I would be able to fix the problem if I sat in front of a box, but, verballizing it at this point is a little shaky. I don’t even know what I’m worth anymore. I just want the hunt to be over.

The last few days have been quite a disruption to my routine. My monday precedent setter was thwarted by Halloween. I was pretty excited about it…considering we closed on the house last year and didn’t have a chance to celebrate. I decorated the front and dug up my old costume. It didn’t really occur to me how depressing the whole thing was until I found myself sitting alone by the door pressing the fogger button and shoveling candy in my mouth…just waiting for the doorbell to ring. We only had about seven groups of kids…which seemed a little strange considering all the kids in the neighborhood. The adults appreciated the decorations more than the kids…but, I guess that’s to be expected considering the fact that they are only there for the candy.
I had another interview yesterday and one scheduled for tomorrow. I am not sure if I’m excited or disappointed about the whole thing. I don’t particularly want to go back to work, but, the extra income is compelling. I’ve given up on the first interview I had. Now I’m relying on the temp agencies to put me somewhere. Either the job market sucks or I’m just not all that interesting. I took some assessments yesterday and was reminded how much I hate that part of temping. I don’t particularly want people relying solely on how well I did on a test to determine my abilities. Seriously, who has ever needed to know which IRQ is associated with what component in practical application? At least, as far as my field is concerned. Part of me gives up. I haven’t been able to do shit on the house this week, and driving sixty miles to Ontario yesterday completely drained me. I really don’t want to go back to filing and answering phones…but, I guess it’s better than flipping burgers somewhere at the rate I’m going.