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Saturday, September 4, 2010
Stuck in traffic
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
All we need is graffiti
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Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sign of the rough times
"What was the name of the temp agency you used?" Leesa asked, "Shawna wants to kno..." her voice trailed off as her attention was drawn to the voice on the other end of the phone who had apparently started talking before getting an answer to the question she had called to ask. In this instant, he had one of those moments that seem to have been happening all too often lately. It was a feeling that would not be all that unfamiliar to most people, but was much more regular to him since living a lifestyle focused on family rather than career.
"Excel" he said as he felt the rush of adrenaline flow up through his chest and neck to his head which he was pretty sure had turned a nice, bright shade of red. He decided last week to go ahead and register with the temp agency that he had a really good experience with when they first moved back to California in 2006. He drives by all the time and sees the building that they are in, but has never really looked for them in the past couple of years since he wasn't in the market for an office job. Times have been very tough lately, though, and push is coming to shove so he figured, "why not?"
"Spell it" Leesa says in the same manner that she has for the past 12 years that they have been together. He has thought that maybe he should just spell every word that he knows is going to be questionable in her mind. Kind of like a spelling bee contestant. "Excel. E-X-C-E-L" he says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to see if he still has their contact information. It is possible that he deleted the contact from his address book, but that would not be like Dallas. The phone is unsheathed and in an instant his left thumb has hit the E, X, and C buttons which brings up two contacts. He was right about himself. It was not like him to delete a contact like that. One that could be of service to him or someone else in the future. The first contact simply read "Excel" and the second one read "Rhonda at Excel."
He remembered Rhonda as being a very pleasant, rotund woman in her late 30's to early 40's, with dark hair and a tan skintone. It was possible that she could have been of latin ancestry, but she did not necessarily look Mexican as do many of the residents of this area. He remembered that her daughter had been over to his house, playing with his niece whom she coincidentally knew from school, when he was first working with the agency. That little girl wrote with crayon on the back of his son's desk, "I'm a redneck woman." He had even given her a ride home once and always remembered that they had lived in a house on the same street as his friend, Ryan. That was really the extent of his memory of this woman whose name and work contact info was in his phone's address book.
Should he call this woman directly? Probably not, who knows if she even works there any more? If she does, she probably doesn't have time to look up an old case that wants to come back in the time when there are more people looking for work than ever before in his lifetime...probably hers too. He decided to call the main contact number. His right thumb scrolls the little white ball to select the chosen number to call and quickly shifts left to hit the green "connect" button. He raises the phone to his ear wondering if he is going to have a long conversation or simply confirm their location and ask for their business hours.
Before he can even finish the thought of what his conversation might entail, three tones chime in on the other end and a pre-recorded message that he listens to just to make sure that it says what he thinks it will say. "The number you have dialed," a female "operator's" voice says, "is no longer in service."
"Of course," he thinks to himself. There are so many people that need work right now, and so many businesses that need to save money, nobody would need another temp agency. He noticed a Labor Ready the other day and thought of how tough it was for his friend Kyle to find work through them last summer in Los Angeles. "Oh, well." he thought to himself. "I guess I could have deleted that contact anyway." A quick online search brings up the service, but it appears that they have downsized and tried to make most of their business online. This office is not open anymore, but the service is still around. Now he will have to see if the competition is too much our there for them to be effective for him.
"Excel" he said as he felt the rush of adrenaline flow up through his chest and neck to his head which he was pretty sure had turned a nice, bright shade of red. He decided last week to go ahead and register with the temp agency that he had a really good experience with when they first moved back to California in 2006. He drives by all the time and sees the building that they are in, but has never really looked for them in the past couple of years since he wasn't in the market for an office job. Times have been very tough lately, though, and push is coming to shove so he figured, "why not?"
"Spell it" Leesa says in the same manner that she has for the past 12 years that they have been together. He has thought that maybe he should just spell every word that he knows is going to be questionable in her mind. Kind of like a spelling bee contestant. "Excel. E-X-C-E-L" he says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to see if he still has their contact information. It is possible that he deleted the contact from his address book, but that would not be like Dallas. The phone is unsheathed and in an instant his left thumb has hit the E, X, and C buttons which brings up two contacts. He was right about himself. It was not like him to delete a contact like that. One that could be of service to him or someone else in the future. The first contact simply read "Excel" and the second one read "Rhonda at Excel."
He remembered Rhonda as being a very pleasant, rotund woman in her late 30's to early 40's, with dark hair and a tan skintone. It was possible that she could have been of latin ancestry, but she did not necessarily look Mexican as do many of the residents of this area. He remembered that her daughter had been over to his house, playing with his niece whom she coincidentally knew from school, when he was first working with the agency. That little girl wrote with crayon on the back of his son's desk, "I'm a redneck woman." He had even given her a ride home once and always remembered that they had lived in a house on the same street as his friend, Ryan. That was really the extent of his memory of this woman whose name and work contact info was in his phone's address book.
Should he call this woman directly? Probably not, who knows if she even works there any more? If she does, she probably doesn't have time to look up an old case that wants to come back in the time when there are more people looking for work than ever before in his lifetime...probably hers too. He decided to call the main contact number. His right thumb scrolls the little white ball to select the chosen number to call and quickly shifts left to hit the green "connect" button. He raises the phone to his ear wondering if he is going to have a long conversation or simply confirm their location and ask for their business hours.
Before he can even finish the thought of what his conversation might entail, three tones chime in on the other end and a pre-recorded message that he listens to just to make sure that it says what he thinks it will say. "The number you have dialed," a female "operator's" voice says, "is no longer in service."
"Of course," he thinks to himself. There are so many people that need work right now, and so many businesses that need to save money, nobody would need another temp agency. He noticed a Labor Ready the other day and thought of how tough it was for his friend Kyle to find work through them last summer in Los Angeles. "Oh, well." he thought to himself. "I guess I could have deleted that contact anyway." A quick online search brings up the service, but it appears that they have downsized and tried to make most of their business online. This office is not open anymore, but the service is still around. Now he will have to see if the competition is too much our there for them to be effective for him.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Social services
"Now serving number ninety two," the computerized voice said, "at window number one." Dallas looked down at his number, which was A099, and decided that he needed to move seats in the waiting room. The smell of body odor from the family of migrant workers next to him was starting to turn his stomach a little and he needed a place where he could stretch out his long legs.
"Now serving number ninety three" the voice said as a muffin-topped young mother of two grabbed her ninos and took them up to the window, leaving some open seats against the window where he could stretch out and not worry about blocking the aisle with his long limbs. Dallas stood up with confidence and moved to the open seats with authority as if to say, "this is where I belong."
This was not his first journey to the wellfare office and most likely will not be his last. He is always interested to see the face of "poverty" in this country. Being a 6'1" good looking white man, he did not fit into many people's idea of a recipient of their tax dollars, but what he found was that there was not one face of poverty because in this economy, it affects all kinds.
He notices an older Phillipino man with a new application and his wife. The man has let his grey roots grow out for a few months now as evidence by the appearance of spats on his hairline. Dallas has a funny thought that maybe his hair color just started coming in grey when things started to really get bad for them financially.
The couple look like they are not used to asking for anything and they definitely do not know their way around this office. They stay close to each other for comfort.
Runnin' with Dante
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