So I went to the gig today. Not a bad gig all in all, only six hours but at a slightly higher rate than normal. I was able to arrive home early and take care of some business before taking a walk along the river.
I'm hoping to complete this move. I hate leaving the family back in New Mexico while I do this, but right now don't have much of a choice. Even a modest amount of money still helps right now. We're not out of money yet; we have about 6 weeks' reserve, and we still have a lot of things to sell. With Amy back to work and me working as well, we can start building that back.
I have an interview scheduled tomorrow, looking forward to getting things figured out here in OKC. I loved our time in New Mexico, but there is nothing there for us. This move has very few downsides.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
A Tough Choice to Make
In Tulsa town,
We chanced to stray,
We thought we'd try
To work one day,
The boss said he
Had room for one,
Said my old pal,
We'd rather bum
--Tom Paxton, "Ramblin' Boy"
So, I headed back to Oklahoma City last night, had to make the rush back to set my garbage out. I had called day labor to make sure that I didn't need anything to get registered here. They said they just needed to update the profile, so I planned to head over.
Driving all night and waking up early is not a good combination, but I made it. After much procrastination, I headed out. I couldn't find my coat, so I jetted over to WalMart to pick up a light jacket, figuring I had left the coat behind in New Mexico.
I made it to the day labor office to find another guy waiting outside. The sign said the office opened at 5:30, but they didn't crack the doors until 6. I waited, and spoke with the fellow outside. He had no transportation and couldn't get jobs because of it.
I changed my profile, and received a ticket to head over to Yukon to work, but they only had a single opening. I offered to take the other fellow out if he needed it, but she didn't seem too interested in sending him out. I didn't know, didn't ask, figured I would just observe on this one, but I badly wished to reject the ticket until they found one we could both roll out on. Unfortunately, on this day, my need for money outweighed my desire to be a crusader. I don't know if I'll ever feel right with that decision.
I really see an opening here to do something important. That fellow went back out in the cold with nobody there to speak for him, and I couldn't help thinking maybe that's where I need to be.
We chanced to stray,
We thought we'd try
To work one day,
The boss said he
Had room for one,
Said my old pal,
We'd rather bum
--Tom Paxton, "Ramblin' Boy"
So, I headed back to Oklahoma City last night, had to make the rush back to set my garbage out. I had called day labor to make sure that I didn't need anything to get registered here. They said they just needed to update the profile, so I planned to head over.
Driving all night and waking up early is not a good combination, but I made it. After much procrastination, I headed out. I couldn't find my coat, so I jetted over to WalMart to pick up a light jacket, figuring I had left the coat behind in New Mexico.
I made it to the day labor office to find another guy waiting outside. The sign said the office opened at 5:30, but they didn't crack the doors until 6. I waited, and spoke with the fellow outside. He had no transportation and couldn't get jobs because of it.
I changed my profile, and received a ticket to head over to Yukon to work, but they only had a single opening. I offered to take the other fellow out if he needed it, but she didn't seem too interested in sending him out. I didn't know, didn't ask, figured I would just observe on this one, but I badly wished to reject the ticket until they found one we could both roll out on. Unfortunately, on this day, my need for money outweighed my desire to be a crusader. I don't know if I'll ever feel right with that decision.
I really see an opening here to do something important. That fellow went back out in the cold with nobody there to speak for him, and I couldn't help thinking maybe that's where I need to be.
Monday, February 22, 2016
Feeling Like a Whole Lot of Nothing
I received a call this morning. Not the call I was hoping for, and not even sure how it is going to pan out.
Over the past couple of days, I have spent my time updating online resumes and submitting applications throughout the Oklahoma City area. My Monster.com recipes are a template for mediocrity; the most views I have ever had with any of them was 17.
So I was somewhat surprised to receive a call from a recruiter for a hospital IT position. It's in a completely different direction from OKC, and it's still early (calls from headhunters, in my experience, rarely pan out), but IT is a position where you're wise to evaluate all of your options.
It has caused me to think, though, about our recent experience. And about why I am so eager to leave this community. I came here as a professional, and when I chose to stay after that job ceased to be a viable option, it meant staying in a town where I was able to listen to the people who feel I am nothing for too long. To people who don't value the hard work that went into reaching the point I was when we first drove in to Clayton. To people who make a livelihood out of putting others down.
You listen to that sort of talk long enough, you start to believe it.
I watched idea after idea of mine appropriated, with no credit given, and certainly no employment opportunities. I watched as I stepped in and saved the school district thousands of dollars by chasing down a warranty and patching security holes, only to be overlooked for the permanent position because of a superintendent who would rather believe rumor rather than fact. I watched as certain locals tore me down and told me to "get out of our town".
After awhile, that stuff wears on you, even if you have skin as thick as a rhino's.
Whether or not I take a hard look at this option, it was good to speak to someone who feels I have something to offer. And good to remember the people of this community do not represent the views of this world.
I'd love to fly out of here one day with both middle fingers extended, but I won't. Not because I'm better than that (I certainly am not), but because I've come to pity this community rather than hate it. They tried to pitch this community to a movie production company, and were horribly offended comment asking "why would anyone want to live HERE?", and they wracked their brains trying to figure out how to change that perception.
But they don't want to know, really. Or my phone, and the phones of others who have chosen to leave, would be ringing more than it has been.
Over the past couple of days, I have spent my time updating online resumes and submitting applications throughout the Oklahoma City area. My Monster.com recipes are a template for mediocrity; the most views I have ever had with any of them was 17.
So I was somewhat surprised to receive a call from a recruiter for a hospital IT position. It's in a completely different direction from OKC, and it's still early (calls from headhunters, in my experience, rarely pan out), but IT is a position where you're wise to evaluate all of your options.
It has caused me to think, though, about our recent experience. And about why I am so eager to leave this community. I came here as a professional, and when I chose to stay after that job ceased to be a viable option, it meant staying in a town where I was able to listen to the people who feel I am nothing for too long. To people who don't value the hard work that went into reaching the point I was when we first drove in to Clayton. To people who make a livelihood out of putting others down.
You listen to that sort of talk long enough, you start to believe it.
I watched idea after idea of mine appropriated, with no credit given, and certainly no employment opportunities. I watched as I stepped in and saved the school district thousands of dollars by chasing down a warranty and patching security holes, only to be overlooked for the permanent position because of a superintendent who would rather believe rumor rather than fact. I watched as certain locals tore me down and told me to "get out of our town".
After awhile, that stuff wears on you, even if you have skin as thick as a rhino's.
Whether or not I take a hard look at this option, it was good to speak to someone who feels I have something to offer. And good to remember the people of this community do not represent the views of this world.
I'd love to fly out of here one day with both middle fingers extended, but I won't. Not because I'm better than that (I certainly am not), but because I've come to pity this community rather than hate it. They tried to pitch this community to a movie production company, and were horribly offended comment asking "why would anyone want to live HERE?", and they wracked their brains trying to figure out how to change that perception.
But they don't want to know, really. Or my phone, and the phones of others who have chosen to leave, would be ringing more than it has been.
Thursday, February 11, 2016
It Doesn't Matter
When you say
That your vote
doesn't matter --
You're right!
It doesn't matter to the homeless man who will die tonight in the New York City streets, nameless and unloved, with a long dying look at a statue that once promised hope
For the tired,
For the poor,
For the huddled masses
It doesn't matter to the transgendered teen who sits alone at home with 8 inches of cold sharpened steel pressed against her wrist because she can no longer live in her own skin and has been betrayed
By her family,
By her teachers,
By her church,
And by her community
It doesn't matter for the pregnant teen who carries in her womb the offspring of an unfathomably, unimaginably evil act and must now run the gauntlet
Of jeers,
Of stares,
Of violent thoughts
From those who claim to march
Under the banner
Of a God of love
It doesn't matter for the factory worker who will return home to see his worldly belongings on the front lawn accompanied by the self righteous sneer of the banker who foreclosed and the firm but silent acquiescence of the sheriff,
Who should
Be arresting
The banker
It doesn't matter for the prisoner who will never see his child because he gave in to his youthful exuberance to smoke a plant.
No, it does not matter for them
BECAUSE CHANGE
WILL COME TOO LATE
FOR THEM ! ! !
It matters for those
Who should not inherit
The legacy
That we have made
Their birthright
That your vote
doesn't matter --
You're right!
It doesn't matter to the homeless man who will die tonight in the New York City streets, nameless and unloved, with a long dying look at a statue that once promised hope
For the tired,
For the poor,
For the huddled masses
It doesn't matter to the transgendered teen who sits alone at home with 8 inches of cold sharpened steel pressed against her wrist because she can no longer live in her own skin and has been betrayed
By her family,
By her teachers,
By her church,
And by her community
It doesn't matter for the pregnant teen who carries in her womb the offspring of an unfathomably, unimaginably evil act and must now run the gauntlet
Of jeers,
Of stares,
Of violent thoughts
From those who claim to march
Under the banner
Of a God of love
It doesn't matter for the factory worker who will return home to see his worldly belongings on the front lawn accompanied by the self righteous sneer of the banker who foreclosed and the firm but silent acquiescence of the sheriff,
Who should
Be arresting
The banker
It doesn't matter for the prisoner who will never see his child because he gave in to his youthful exuberance to smoke a plant.
No, it does not matter for them
BECAUSE CHANGE
WILL COME TOO LATE
FOR THEM ! ! !
It matters for those
Who should not inherit
The legacy
That we have made
Their birthright
Thank the Lord for the Night Time
I'm writing this during a mid day break from sleep. I went to the second day labor place in Amarillo, the one where they only process new registrations on Wednesday, and after going back for the delayed 1 PM interview, I was processed in. They asked me if I could take a 9:30 PM job unloading trucks. I agreed.
I got to the site at 9:30, the trucks had been there the night before, they were doing the fixture installs that night. Not a big problem, but I did come a bit overdressed, as I had worn sleeves to protect myself from the cold during the night. A not so great idea, as I was quickly very warm.
Because I was the day laborer and the other guys were on the project team, I was largely the gofer at first. I've done store mods before, though, so building the fixtures was old hat, basically, and we had those knocked out pretty early. As we headed on into the night, though, the less fun work was what was left.
They had me scrubbing tiles to prepare for grouting. I did not bring knee pads, was already getting tired at this point, and my knees became very sore, very quickly. I was able to borrow a pair, but the remaining hours were a reminder that I am not as young as I had used to be. One of the project team was slightly sadistic, and when I got up to work out my knees, asked if I was quitting. He seemed to enjoy watching me, as severely unaccustomed to the job as I was, struggling.
At the end of the night, 8 hours in and a $53 check. I'm still running barely even with expenses on the week, and the idea of having my hours average out to minimum wage was abandoned long ago. I filed my paperwork, and returned to the hotel, very sore and earnestly hoping for this chapter to be over.
I got to the site at 9:30, the trucks had been there the night before, they were doing the fixture installs that night. Not a big problem, but I did come a bit overdressed, as I had worn sleeves to protect myself from the cold during the night. A not so great idea, as I was quickly very warm.
Because I was the day laborer and the other guys were on the project team, I was largely the gofer at first. I've done store mods before, though, so building the fixtures was old hat, basically, and we had those knocked out pretty early. As we headed on into the night, though, the less fun work was what was left.
They had me scrubbing tiles to prepare for grouting. I did not bring knee pads, was already getting tired at this point, and my knees became very sore, very quickly. I was able to borrow a pair, but the remaining hours were a reminder that I am not as young as I had used to be. One of the project team was slightly sadistic, and when I got up to work out my knees, asked if I was quitting. He seemed to enjoy watching me, as severely unaccustomed to the job as I was, struggling.
At the end of the night, 8 hours in and a $53 check. I'm still running barely even with expenses on the week, and the idea of having my hours average out to minimum wage was abandoned long ago. I filed my paperwork, and returned to the hotel, very sore and earnestly hoping for this chapter to be over.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
You Had ONE Job!
This week has been a crash course in privilege. If you've been reading along, you will know the situation: I am staying at a cheap motel in Amarillo, working day labor work when I don't have contract work, and relearning a lot of what I have forgotten about privilege. If you haven't been reading along, I encourage you to read older articles. It's good stuff.
So, there are two day labor places in Amarillo. I registered at one and had work Tuesday, but this second one only interviews on Wednesdays. The morning time frame is 10:00AM. So I arrived in a bit early, and the lady said she had a medical appointment, and asked very nicely if I could come back.
Basically, I took a day off of work rather than head over to the other site and see if they had something, to be told that I need to come back later. On the ONE DAY they do interviews.
Fortunately that wasn't a problem for me. But it very well could be a problem for others who may have limited transportation, or need to spend that afternoon time looking for other work, or actually out making money. My take for yesterday just covered the cost of my motel room; if it was everything I had to depend on, I would be running in the negative and filling my pockets with the cheap pastries from the motel's breakfast.
So I'm at the McDonald's cribbing the free wifi again (It's a staple for me on the road these days) and eating a $3.00 breakfast. Not bad, I suppose, but it's hardly the cush life that Republicans accuse folks like me of living. I'm already looking forward to returning home and sleeping in my own bed; to be honest, I was looking forward to that by the end of the day Monday.
What I have determined this week, though, is that there is a vast disconnect from where I am and where many of these people are. The only way I can bridge that is to actually BE where they are, and I have pretty much decided to launch into full time activism and ministry. This isn't a whim; this is something I have long considered and have finally figured out a way to make happen.
Hopefully I'll get registered at the other day labor place so that I don't have to go back and do this again. If so, I may work there tomorrow. If not, I can head back to the first one.
So, there are two day labor places in Amarillo. I registered at one and had work Tuesday, but this second one only interviews on Wednesdays. The morning time frame is 10:00AM. So I arrived in a bit early, and the lady said she had a medical appointment, and asked very nicely if I could come back.
Basically, I took a day off of work rather than head over to the other site and see if they had something, to be told that I need to come back later. On the ONE DAY they do interviews.
Fortunately that wasn't a problem for me. But it very well could be a problem for others who may have limited transportation, or need to spend that afternoon time looking for other work, or actually out making money. My take for yesterday just covered the cost of my motel room; if it was everything I had to depend on, I would be running in the negative and filling my pockets with the cheap pastries from the motel's breakfast.
So I'm at the McDonald's cribbing the free wifi again (It's a staple for me on the road these days) and eating a $3.00 breakfast. Not bad, I suppose, but it's hardly the cush life that Republicans accuse folks like me of living. I'm already looking forward to returning home and sleeping in my own bed; to be honest, I was looking forward to that by the end of the day Monday.
What I have determined this week, though, is that there is a vast disconnect from where I am and where many of these people are. The only way I can bridge that is to actually BE where they are, and I have pretty much decided to launch into full time activism and ministry. This isn't a whim; this is something I have long considered and have finally figured out a way to make happen.
Hopefully I'll get registered at the other day labor place so that I don't have to go back and do this again. If so, I may work there tomorrow. If not, I can head back to the first one.
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
When It Gets Real
(Closed Captioned for the Privilege Perception Impaired)
NOTE: I was going to title this with a word in place of "it" that rhymes with it, and is generally considered a vulgarity, but I decided to spare the obscenity on my friends' stream. Although what we are doing to the poor is FAR more obscene, and in sparing your sensitivities I have shown far more consideration for you than public policy shows to the needy.
Also, I have highlighted parts of this tale that outline my privileged point of view because I feel it is important for us to understand privilege. Also, because I'm kind of an ass!
I started off this morning heading to the day labor joint. I arrived at 6AM (Privilege point: having a car is a privilege not everyone enjoys. Had I had to walk to the day labor place, this easily could have added an hour or more to my day). I sat in the waiting room holding for an assignment for 2 hours, then decided to run for a burrito. I spent $4.33 on two burritos, a point that will be important later in this tale.
I took another laborer to the job site. In my case, the hotel's paid for for the week because of work done yesterday in IT. We had six guys onsite, all with varying backgrounds. There was another IT guy there, two truckers, a welder, and a young man who assisted his brother in roofing.
When we arrived onsite, after asking around, we discovered it was about a 4 hour assignment. This was not a big deal for me, but a huge deal for the others who were depending on this as their primary source of income.
The assignment was to place a 50,000 square foot tarp on the floor of an event center. The total weight of the tarp was about a ton, it was split into 4 sections. After hearing that it would be a half day assignment, I decided it would be a good social experiment (Privilege point: I came into this well fed and not having to worry about a roof over my head). The idea, as I saw it, was to try to make enough for the day off of this day's earning's alone.
I had a comic relief moment about noon when my fitness app alerted me to the fact my step quota for the day had been filled, without even trying (If I even have to discuss the fingerprints of privilege all over this one, I honestly can't help you!)
We finished the day with 5 hours instead of 4, so that was a win. I didn't have a pair of gloves with me and so had to buy a pair (if this was truly life or death, I would have lied). At the end of the day, I had a check for $34.23.
That was just under what I needed to pay for the hotel room $34.50), so I decided to hunt for cans. I walked for 3/4 mile; that was enough for me for the day. I gathered 1 pound of cans, a total so low the guy at the recycling center half sneered at me. A grand total of forty cents.
So my take for the day was $34.63. Not enough after the room for even a packet of ramen noodles. (Privilege point: had I not had a bank account, I would have lost a percentage of the check to check cashing fees in many places. I also didn't count the gas in the total).
Now, had I been genuinely without means, I could have hit the guy I gave the ride to up for gas money. I also noticed a pretty good street corner open for evening rush, so if there was genuinely a need, flying a sign wouldn't have been out of the question.
But honestly, does it speak well of us as a society when the best we can do is tell people to fly a sign? Can't we do better? Further, don't we have the MORAL authority to do so?
Technically, I lost $4.20 on the day, plus gas (the cost of the burritoes). That's not even counting supper. (Privilege point: the poor don't have a surplus to use when they come up short. They merely go without! So in the real world, I'd have had to keep walking till I acquired the cans)
I'm going to keep hammering this point home because, honestly, it's a point that needs pounding. Don't come to me with the pretense of being a Christian nation if you want to continue to destroy the working class.
NOTE: I was going to title this with a word in place of "it" that rhymes with it, and is generally considered a vulgarity, but I decided to spare the obscenity on my friends' stream. Although what we are doing to the poor is FAR more obscene, and in sparing your sensitivities I have shown far more consideration for you than public policy shows to the needy.
Also, I have highlighted parts of this tale that outline my privileged point of view because I feel it is important for us to understand privilege. Also, because I'm kind of an ass!
I started off this morning heading to the day labor joint. I arrived at 6AM (Privilege point: having a car is a privilege not everyone enjoys. Had I had to walk to the day labor place, this easily could have added an hour or more to my day). I sat in the waiting room holding for an assignment for 2 hours, then decided to run for a burrito. I spent $4.33 on two burritos, a point that will be important later in this tale.
I took another laborer to the job site. In my case, the hotel's paid for for the week because of work done yesterday in IT. We had six guys onsite, all with varying backgrounds. There was another IT guy there, two truckers, a welder, and a young man who assisted his brother in roofing.
When we arrived onsite, after asking around, we discovered it was about a 4 hour assignment. This was not a big deal for me, but a huge deal for the others who were depending on this as their primary source of income.
The assignment was to place a 50,000 square foot tarp on the floor of an event center. The total weight of the tarp was about a ton, it was split into 4 sections. After hearing that it would be a half day assignment, I decided it would be a good social experiment (Privilege point: I came into this well fed and not having to worry about a roof over my head). The idea, as I saw it, was to try to make enough for the day off of this day's earning's alone.
I had a comic relief moment about noon when my fitness app alerted me to the fact my step quota for the day had been filled, without even trying (If I even have to discuss the fingerprints of privilege all over this one, I honestly can't help you!)
We finished the day with 5 hours instead of 4, so that was a win. I didn't have a pair of gloves with me and so had to buy a pair (if this was truly life or death, I would have lied). At the end of the day, I had a check for $34.23.
That was just under what I needed to pay for the hotel room $34.50), so I decided to hunt for cans. I walked for 3/4 mile; that was enough for me for the day. I gathered 1 pound of cans, a total so low the guy at the recycling center half sneered at me. A grand total of forty cents.
So my take for the day was $34.63. Not enough after the room for even a packet of ramen noodles. (Privilege point: had I not had a bank account, I would have lost a percentage of the check to check cashing fees in many places. I also didn't count the gas in the total).
Now, had I been genuinely without means, I could have hit the guy I gave the ride to up for gas money. I also noticed a pretty good street corner open for evening rush, so if there was genuinely a need, flying a sign wouldn't have been out of the question.
But honestly, does it speak well of us as a society when the best we can do is tell people to fly a sign? Can't we do better? Further, don't we have the MORAL authority to do so?
Technically, I lost $4.20 on the day, plus gas (the cost of the burritoes). That's not even counting supper. (Privilege point: the poor don't have a surplus to use when they come up short. They merely go without! So in the real world, I'd have had to keep walking till I acquired the cans)
I'm going to keep hammering this point home because, honestly, it's a point that needs pounding. Don't come to me with the pretense of being a Christian nation if you want to continue to destroy the working class.
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