Heyyyyy, look at me. I’m blogging. I assure you I haven’t neglected this thing for any reason other than being too ding dang busy. I’m trying to get a second job that will actually last more than two months. The whole process involves a lot of ferrying paperwork across town and getting tested for TB and carpal tunnel and such. Turns out, I totally don’t even have any Tuberculosis.
So last I wrote I was still in training. I’m all done with that now and have even had a full week as real and true censusser. Training proceeded much in the same way that it began, with so many people in my group constantly bitching and slowing everything to a crawl by having very low reading comprehension skills. I took a few notes, a lot of them dealing with the cringe inducing antics of a woman I call Awful Woman, for obvious reasons. This is the same woman who was so concerned with how this job that she had agreed to do would inconvenience her. Awful Woman thinks she is very enlightened but actually is just one of those people who love to tell other people how wrong they are. You know, she’s an expert on everything, just turns out she’s wrong all the time. She suggested that if upon viewing a human, we assumed them to be Hispanic, we should just hand them the Spanish information sheet before even speaking to them. I assume this is because she is so wise that she just knows if a person is one of those Hispanics when she sees them. She expressed disdain for those who live in mobile homes and thought it would be prudent to disagree with people about their race and heritage. Oh yeah, she also asked what she should do if she arrives at a house and all the occupant can say is “No speaky.” I pretty much loathe her. No, wait. I totally loathe her. She is fucking awful.
There’s another lady I call Blonde Leonard Nimoy because that is what she looks like. It’s pretty creepy. She is the one who thinks that this job is just the most awful thing that anyone could have to endure. She has to be at least 60 years old but it seems like this is her first job ever. Or maybe she worked her whole life as a pillows and pleasant scents tester. Every time I see her she has some incredibly minor thing to complain about as if it were killing her, like the tri-fold forms we have to fill out. Oh woe upon woe! I have to flip paper over and fold it back. Who could withstand under such inhuman pressures?
Partway through our training our territory got changed from what was apparently a neighborhood full of wealthy old people to “the bad side of town.” I was initially slightly nervous given that everyone in my group freaked out when this happened. Now that I have actually gone out and worked in this neighborhood I could just laugh and laugh for days on end at the stink they raised about our safety in this neighborhood. It is full of beautiful new homes and a lot of young families just starting out. It turns out that what people meant when they said “bad side of town” was “area where there are some Mexicans.” I really just cannot even believe people sometimes.
We had our last day of training on a Saturday and things got off to a totally ridiculous start for me. The day had not even begun and I was walking to the bathroom when I ran into a guy who turned out to be an upper-level supervisor there to finish the training with us. I got yelled at for not wearing my badge on my way to the bathroom. I was unaware that I had to make the public aware of my official census status while taking a piss, but rest assured everyone, my pee will be 100% census certified from now on.
Big boss man turned out to be an old hippy who thought he was a badass and was so in love with himself it was hilarious. Things he let slip during the course of the day: rides a motorcycle, used to race for 25 years, has 5 kids, was married a long time and can still get dates, can look like “Mr. Government” because he is 6’2”, and once kicked a pitbull in the mouth despite having no martial arts training. He also complained of “a lot of uptightness going around.” It was an amusing day.
Later that day we went out to our first houses. I was slightly nervous, due to everyone being sketched out about this neighborhood but I quickly got over that. I went to two houses, one where no one was home and one where I completed the interview. I felt like a damn champ. Since then I have been to so many houses. People have been generally accommodating and pleasant. I’ve only had one person refuse to talk to me outright. One of the most hilarious things that has happened has been the exercise house. Without fail, whenever I approached this house there was some group aerobics going on inside for what seemed like hours. I did finally get to talk to the people there in a rare moment of repose, so no more exercise house for me.
The last time I worked I got trapped in a cat lady apartment for over an hour. Her door was open and she even seemed to be expecting me. She tried to get me to have some coffee and talked to me for so very long about I don’t even know what. She asked if pets were counted in the census. She was actually super nice and I got the impression that she was just lonely and bored, but boy did I need to get out of there.
Overall it is a pretty sweet deal. I get to talk to a bunch of people, get more familiar with my town and get money. It’s raining today and I really don’t want to go out, but I must. Maybe someone will take pity on me and give me a cupcake. You never know.
