Funny That Blanca (o) Means White

I need an up-to-date typing test to submit with my resume for a job. There are these career development centers for people on unemployment, and yesterday I called one, to see if they charge for a typing test. They don't. I asked if I could come in first thing this morning. Blanca, the woman on the phone, told me they'd already filled all the appointments for today, and the rest of this week. I explained that because this is a job with the City that I'm applying for, there's a deadline.

Blanca put me on hold. When she came back she said that if I could get there 15 minutes before they open today at 9am, she would open early for me so I could rush in, take my test, and get out. I agreed and thanked her. It was such a nice thing to do that it made me wish I could bring her a giftcard to a coffee shop or something.

When I started out this morning the heatwave had lifted. The cool air felt great as I waited for the bus. And waited. It was eight minutes behind schedule. Inside my head, I kept urging the bus driver to go faster. At my stop I rushed off the bus and tried to get my bearings and figure out where in the Mission the career place was. Down the block I saw a long line of people waiting outside. Hoping that was it, I walked towards them. It was.

There were security guards all over the place. All the people were standing in line. If I stood at the back of the line I wouldn't even get in until after 9am, let alone 15 minutes earlier. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to go up to each person in line and somehow tell them, "I'm not cutting you," even though I was. I walked in and said I had an 8:45 appointment with Blanca.

The woman asked me my name and then told me Blanca wasn't there yet, but I should go wait at the tables for her. The tables were next to a desk with a "Computer Center" sign. I told the guy manning the desk that I was there to see Blanca. He told me she'd be right out. I pulled out my book to read and people-watch. There were tons of people there. I was kind of shocked. I shouldn't have been - everyone knows it's hard to find a job.

I was the only white person in the entire place. An old Chinese lady was in line for something, and a security guard went over and told her to stop singing loudly. A group of girls sat down at a table near me, and pulled out McDonalds and started eating. It smelled both good and gross all at the same time.

Blanca came over and introduced herself to me. She's either in her late 60's or has lived a hard life and is in her early 60's. She was wearing grandma shoes with an ankle-length skirt that had fringes cut up to the knees. Blanca led me over to a computer and set me up to take the typing test. I did the one-minute warmup, and then the computer crapped out. When I told Blanca, she pointed to a man talking to a pregnant girl, and told me he might be able to fix the computer. Not to let him leave. So I sat, alone except for the two of them, and pretended not to listen to their conversation.

I pretended not to listen as the pregnant girl talked about her daughter, and how she didn't like the relative doing childcare. How she was putting in all these hours volunteering someplace, but was frustrated. Frustrated because she came home at the end of the day exhausted, and still had to take care of her daughter and listen to her parents and she isn't even getting paid very much. They sat very close - knees almost touching - and the man did active listening.

Blanca came back, said something to me that I didn't catch, and then walked out of the room. After a couple of seconds, I realized she'd said vamanos, so I grabbed my bag and hurried to catch up. There was a second computer room and she set me up to take my typing test there.

A black lady who worked there walked in and told me it might get loud and she was sorry, but I should just do my best to concentrate. We agreed it was warm in the room, and I said surely it wasn't as bad as yesterday. The McDonald's girls walked in, along with some other girls, and I tuned them out while I did the warmup to the typing test again. In less than sixty seconds I felt myself slide into that zone, where your mind checks out and your body takes over.

As I started the five-minute test, the one that would count, I started listening to the girls behind me as they talked with the black lady. First she criticized them for arriving late. Then she reminded them they were supposed to be dressed for work and while she knew it was very hot, spaghetti-strap tank tops and short shorts were not appropriate. I typed, they talked. She asked one girl if she'd talked to another woman who wasn't there.

The girl said no, not yet. A second girl asked why the first girl was going to talk to that woman. Apparently you can apply to get your police record cleared, to make getting a job easier. Who knew you'd learn such important information during a typing test?

When my five minutes were up, I told the program to print my results, and I started out of the room to go find Blanca. The black lady was surprised. "You leavin' already?" I explained it was just a five-minute test. We said goodbye. As I walked out I heard one of the girls say, "I bet she already has a real good job."

Snippets of Ramblings

- There's a heatwave going on in the Bay Area these days, and as a result the temperature never dipped below 85 in my apartment last night. Combined with the fact that my fan makes a horrid and loud squeaking sound, I never got into a deep sleep last night, and have been awake since 5am.

- One of my favorite shows, Dancing With the Stars, has recently started their 11th season. Jennifer Grey, most famous for not being put in a corner, is on the show. At first I was really, really excited. Can you imagine how great a dancer you'd be if you'd been informally (yet, kind of formally) trained for three months or so by Patrick Swayze, a professional dancer?

I was so excited. I wanted Jennifer Grey to win. Then last week, DWTS showed her crying. It was understandable - I mean, they had her dancing to a song in the soundtrack of the movie that really put her on the map. The movie that also really put her co-star on the map, the same co-star who died a year ago. So Jennifer kind of had a pass for that one, in my book.

Then this week in rehearsals, they show the clip of her explaining how she had cancer and needed multiple neck surgeries, complete with a closeup of her scars on the back of her neck/spinal column. Because I'm still rooting for Jennifer, I was a little disappointed, but hoped this would be the last of the drama. I think it's really important for an actor to understand that there's a time and a place to roll out the drama.

Jennifer and Derek did their dance, a jive, and it was ... solidly great. But here's what bothered me: they had what? a week? to learn this dance. At least a week. I assure you, that when you are doing a dance performance, you do it many, many times in rehearsals. Even once you've gotten it perfect, you just keep repeating it. Muscle memory counts for a lot. So I was a little confused as to why Jennifer was so out of breath that she had to sit/lay down on the dance floor immediately following that dance. It struck me as a little dramatic. A little too much. While I love her dancing (doesn't she look great for 50?), I am not loving all this drama.

Dear Jenners, Please do not let me find out you are putting on these histrionics for votes, and let your dancing speak for itself. It's good enough, and you don't need anything else but that, to shine through. Kthxbai.

- A year or so ago, I applied for a job working for the City of San Francisco. It's in a completely different field from what I do now, and I was intrigued because it pays pretty much the same salary, and I'm actually qualified. Well, not exactly, because I suppose if I were qualified I'd have the job, but I was qualified to apply. I sailed through the first interview, but then failed the second. Luckily, I was able to review what went wrong, and even more luckily, it just has to do with presentation, rather than substance. The City's rule for that position is that you have to wait six months to reapply. I not-so-patiently waited six months, only to find out they'd stopped accepting applications for the position. Crushed. But! Yesterday I saw they're again taking applications, so I am pulling all my paperwork together to apply once more. I don't get hopeful anymore, but as much as I do, I am.

"I Make a Lot of Money Too"

Partner is being audited. Oh, that reminds me - Office Manager believes Partner is being audited because someone who used to work for him as a secretary turned him in to the IRS. Let's just stop and think about that for a moment. How much do you have to hate someone to do that to them? What must that woman have felt towards Partner to want to cause that much stress to him? It's also believed she gave a difficult client his own file, which he went through and took out letters where he agreed to pay more, above and beyond the initial retainer for additional work. So she really put effort into screwing this guy over. And over.

Anyway. So after I trained my replacement, Partner kept me on for a week or so to help him work on his audit. This involved reviewing of old credit card and bank statements, and making a lot of charts and tables and calculator-usage on my part. On one hand, the truth is, it's kind of interesting to see how someone with a different lifestyle lives. To see what they're willing to spend money on. Partner has a gardener! He actually wrote out checks to "Gardener Bob" each month. He sent somebody chocolates from Harry & David. Partner went to Japan! It's interesting.

However. It's kind of hard, when you're scraping together enough money to pay rent each month, to see the little things someone is wasting money purchasing. The Chronicle is online. There's no good reason to have a subscription and buy it each day. Partner orders in dinner half the time, and goes out for dinner on the other nights.

Once, on a really hot day, he came strolling into the office drinking a Jamba Juice, and stopped in front of my desk. Looking at my little cup of water, he said to me, "Oh, I should have gotten you one too," and it took every ounce of restraint to avoid responding, "Yes, that would have been nice of you."

After a few days of creating these charts, and looking at Partner's financials, it really started to get me down. See, that's the thing with temping - on one hand, it's nice to once again be involved in society, but on the other hand (you have more fingers), it's tempting to act as the people around you do, and you have to remind yourself that even though you're working among them, you're not actually like them because you don't have a steady paycheck.

On my last day there, Partner and I were in his office, and I was showing him everything I'd done and was about to send to his accountant. At one point, Partner put his head in his hand and complained, "God, this is so complicated!" I, having worked for forensic accountants in the past, probably have a better sense of just how much more complicated it could actually be. So in a mild attempt to cheer Partner up, I told him, "Hey, it could be worse - you could be in the middle of an acrimonious divorce." Partner's response?

"Yeah that's true. I should be glad. No kids, no divorce ... and I make a lot of money, too."

Yes, he really said that. Out loud. That he makes a lot of money. So why the fuck were you only paying me $16 an hour, leaving me to take home about $10.33 an hour? I had to walk away. I was trying so hard to be professional and polite and leave a good impression so I could use Partner as a reference. I didn't want to blow it by outting myself as a jealous bitch. But holy shit you guys. I totally fucking was.

I Didn't Drink the Syrup

Sure wanted to though. I know that Golden Boy and Crazy Girl have pancake stuff at their house, so I gave the syrup to Golden Boy for them to use.

My last day wound up being this past Friday. I trained the new person who got the job I wanted. Most of you have never needed me to teach you anything, but I am telling you, I'm freaking awesome at teaching. If I know something, I can teach it. So please believe me when I say that if you are trained by me, you will know how to do your job.

Unless of course, you're stupid. And have an attitude problem. Which this new employee does. And is. She hid both pretty well the first day. And the second. On the third day though, I noticed she was very negative to assume the worst about clients. And that she asked me how to do things I'd specifically made a point of teaching her how to do.

All through the following week, I listened as she accused a client of being on drugs, another client of being crazy, and asked Office Manager or myself about things she'd already been told. I watched as she deleted 2,200 unread emails that had been sent to Partner. As she was dismissive to a very nice lawyer who rents space in the office. As she broke the color printer. As she had a document rush-delivered by hand to P.O. Box.

My prediction? She won't last. This is not about me not wanting her to succeed. This is about her not paying attention to the details and thinking things through. My prediction is that it will take a month before Partner realizes this is not a normal learning curve.