Beardsley

I've been growing a huge beard for about 4 months now, chin-strapped on the sides and long in the goatee area. My mom and sister hate it and I'm scared they'll shave it off when I sleep. So I moved and didn't tell them where to. They told me I look like Abraham Lincoln, which I think is a great compliment. He was one of our greatest presidents, after all. Between that and my current elevated position at the Census, I'm sure I'll be able to make a strong run for US Senate next year. Or whenever they wanna let me apply for that job.

FOSin'

The Census Bureau finally recognized the brilliance in front of them and gave me the long over due (read: I was there for 2 months) "promotion." However, since the Census doesn't actually promote people from within, since it makes more sense to hire an outsider who doesn't understand anything about the operation and train them to be a smart and ruggedly handsome man's boss, this was more of a selection to the position of Field Operations Supervisor. I went through a rigid interview process that lasted 2 minutes and mostly comprised of me saying yes. Then I found myself, on an early Monday morning, taking a familiar oath. One to defend the Constitution. One that Congress takes, but with added parts that make it even more oathful. I'm a supervisor now. Shit just got real, enemies of counting.

Man At Work

Updating my blog, taking photos, eating dinner and sleeping have all taken a backseat to working over the past month and a half. I'm still trying to get adjusted to working full time again (first full time job in the last two and a half years), along with teaching the SAT nights and weekends. I figure to make a lot of money now, then hibernate through next year's winter. It's been a very strange time though, as I went from working 06, 07 hours a week to the mirror image of 60 to 70 hours a week. Sacrifices need to be made, unfortunately, and that's resulted in both my blogs not being published as frequently, and a 17% loss in humor as well. On the positive side, check out this awesome ID and the swank suit!

Conversations with a Moron

"Hey, 2010 Census, it's your turn!" That's how my new barber greeted me. I sat down in the chair and we started talking about the Census and how he speaks "4 languages...Russian, Hebrew, Farsi, Persian, English and 3 dialects. I was in high demand. Back in 2000, when I did it, I could do in 2 hours what it took others 8 hours to do, and I got paid by the case. Is it still the same?" I let him know I worked in the office and wasn't sure. "You got a really low test score then, almost failing probably," he assured me (I scored 100, actually.)

This all eventually led to...

Me: Oh, do you live in Briarwood?
I used to
Me: Cool. My mom works at the Briarwood library.
Why, do you live in Briarwood?
Me: No I'm from Queens but my mom works at the Briarwood library
So you don't live there?
Me: No, I used to live in Fresh Meadows with my parents.
Fresh Meadows and Briarwood, they are different places.
Me: Yes. I know. I didn't say I lived there. My mom works at the library there.
They are not the same.

Tales From a Co-Worker

Unfortunately, I had left work early, before this amazing exchange between my co-worker and a new guy:

New Guy: "So what part of eastern Europe is your family from?" (Because my coworker looks Eastern European, which is, in fact, where her family is from.)

Co-worker: My family is Polish.

New Guy: So that's like part of Russia? So then you speak Russian?

Co-worker: No, it's not part of Russia, it's a different country and a completely different language.

New Guy: How interesting. So you can't understand any Russian?

Exasperated Co-worker: No.

Office Co-Workers Say the Darnedest Things

Manic co-worker, during a discussion on apples (side-note: she confesses to being an apple connoisseur, but has the WORSE taste in apples!!) in which she professed to only eating huge apples: "I only eat small apples when I'm desperate."

Splinter Cell

Due to some outrage over the Super Bowl commercials and possible inefficiencies, I'm planning on forming a splinter cell of the US Census Bureau, tentatively named US Sense-us bureau. We put the "us" in Sense-us. The sensory, also.

Office Humor Dos

Although I would have done the exact same thing as my supervisor, I found it ok to laugh at him for it. Barlos (NOTE: all names are slightly changed to barely protect the people's identities) came over with a Census Be Counted box and asked us how big we thought it was. While Tauren tried to give a real answer, I helpfully implored Barlos to use old-timey units of measurement, like cubits, femurs or nautical knots. Bom, our manager, winked at Bauren and I before stating the rather obvious: "Or, Barlos, you could use a ruler, like this one in front of you. Or any of the three, all right in front of you." We laughed and laughed and laughed.

Constitutional Defensing

The work of the Constitutional Defender is never over. He upholds Title XIII laws and protects personally identifiable information from evildoers, such as telemarketers, hackers, and the Soggies. He never rests. Well, except for times other than 8:30 AM to 5:00 PM, EST. And the 30 minute lunch break that's mandated. And my 15 minute morning break, 15 minute afternoon break, and time spent making tea or talking to coworkers. Other than that, the Constitutional Defender is ever-vigilant.

Office Humor

Being able to relate to coworkers and make jokes at others' expense is one way to survive a job with often menial, boring work involved. What we may find funny while inside may appear crazy (and not funny at all) to those outside. For some proof, here's a note I passed to my fellow clerk after an employee made the 5th call to the Children's Guild* (but before the 6th one, which sent me into a fit of giggles manly laughter:

"This Andrew guy KEEPS trying to get in touch with the Children's Guild. Like, repeatedly. I think he may be broken."

*Guilds and Grand Knights in charge of the Knights of Columbus are frequent humorous objects.

Glamourous Giobs (Jobs)

Working for the US Census Bureau is exactly as glamorous as you'd imagine. When they told me I'd be training for 2 to 4 days before they got me up and running on reading manuals everyday or printing maps, I imagined it would be similar to how US Agent or Captain America trains. And I wasn't disappointed (by that, at least).

After navigating obstacle courses straight out the Danger Room, I memorized the names of a thousand forms and their purposes. After that, I was able to learn how to use a copier, which, by the way, runs on magic. Or are made of magic, as my fellow clerk told me. My computer based training, or CBT (because acronyms are awesome, apparently), showed me what an up arrow was, then told me it was for going up, while the down arrow should be clicked for the purposes of going down.

As mentioned earlier, a couple things have disappointed me. My supervisor is great, but he looks a lot like Jared Jeffries, and I constantly want to ask him how he's in the NBA without any discernible offensive talent. My manager reminds me of Ricky Gervais, but he never giggles, asks if I'm having a laugh, or says anything funny in a British accent. Finally, the map pouches which hold the maps that all operations are reliant on aren't really map pouches. I had imagined oil skin pouches, like something Lewis and Clark carried with them. Instead they're simply inter-office envelopes with maps inside. How commonplace! If the enumerators aren't frontiersman types like Davy Crockett decked out in a coonskin hats, but rather everyday people who enjoy counting, I think I may quit.

Constitutional Defender

Think long and hard next time you think about trying to fight the Constitution, because you'll have to go through me first. After being sworn in as an official US Census Bureau employee, I'm now allowed to defend the constitution against all enemies, both foreign AND domestic. If you thought 24 was gripping and raw, you ain't seen nothing yet. All enemies better stay hidden like camouflaged ninjas cause if I even see them GLANCE at the Constitution the wrong way, I'll take the Queenz bat* to them.

Somehow, despite having the most ambivalent interview ever, I was given a job as office clerk, to start training a scant 4 days after interviewing. Going against HD's first piece of advice, (more on that later), I wore a button down shirt and jeans. Arriving at the office, I noticed everyone in training was wearing a suit, or dress pants, tucked in shirt and a tie. I laughed at those clowns, thinking they were completely overdressed. Then I saw my manager in a suit. THEN I got the rules of the office, which included "all male employees are to wear a tie." I wondered what happened to the office I saw last week, with my manager in a thermal shirt under a t shirt. Ohhhhh, I slowly figured out, that was CASUAL FRIDAY.

The second piece of advice HD offered me was to make my lunch and breakfast the night before. Ridiculous, I said. If I did that, the jelly would leak through my bread and make my PB & J all soggy. Yuck. I ended up not having enough time to make both in the morning, and having to go without a sandwich. I did have a not soggy PB & J though, so, really...victory.

*The Queenz Bat is a bat James and I found when we were about 17, wooden, completely beaten up and possibly with traces of blood on it. It was clearly never used for playing ball, but rather for hitting things. These things might also be commonly called "people's body parts."

My Sonic Screw Driver Failed Me

After getting 100 on the US Census Bureau test, I was fairly certain they'd ask me to be a local manager, maybe even run the whole things. Odds were in my favor that I'd BECOME the census, and just guess how many people there are, what their ages, sex, race, religion and shoe sizes are, and where they live. I was called in Thursday night for a Friday morning interview, uncertain even of what position I was applying for.

It was rough preparing, as I had to squeeze into 8 year old khakis and throw on a fancy shirt. It's odd, but there's not much call for dress pants in the "sitting on the couch" industry. When I arrived at the address, I had to triple check to make sure, as it looked mostly abandoned. I almost didn't go inside, as I started thinking this was all a plot to recruit humans to be skinned or absorbed or dissolved or eaten to fuel some alien's insidious plot. I REALLY need to stop watching Doctor Who before I go to sleep.

My interview involved 4 people, which seemed to confirm I was there for a high level job. However, words used by the manager, like "clerk" and "office," seemed to refute my hypothesis. I wasn't prepared for some of the questions asked, like "why do you want to work for the census?" or "what are your strengths, and what are your weaknesses?" I wish I had paraphrased Nas and said I had no weaknesses, that way no one can move on me. The interview lasted 15 minutes, which meant I wasted 3 quarters at the meter. Why do people have to ask such tough questions at interviews?!?! Jerks.

I work hard for jars of honey

Last Friday, I had the privilege of taking the US Census Bureau test, and getting the highest score in the history of ever on it. My competition was what you'd expect to see at jury duty, or the DMV.

"I'm not sure," said one man when asked if he was registered to vote, after not being sure if he had signed up for selective service. Joke could be on him pretty soon.

Veterans get special preference on the test, adding 5 points to their score. Now, I'm not mocking veterans or soldiers, as I greatly appreciate what they've done for the country. Like Mike Birbiglia said, "I love the troops, because if they weren't the troops, I'd be the troops." This guy asked if he'd get the 5 extra points because he "served in Iraq, with Generals Schwarzkopf and Colin Powell, in the Gulf War." Like he was sitting on a bench, and those were the guys to the left and right of him.

Best of all was one slightly delirious, continuous question asking, myopic lady. I listened to all her tales, but finally tuned out after I heard the "psychic-spiritual realm."

All this is to say I feel pretty good about my chances. If the Census Bureau does offer me a job though, I'm going to try to start a bidding war. Sure, $18 an hour is great, but the Associated Supermarket down the block wants me real bad, and they're willing to give me $20 an hour to count cans, plus all the artichokes I can eat and priority checkout. Can you top that, government?

I'm just kidding. If I get offered any job at this point I'll take it. It's gotten so bad that I've even applied to the popular office supply store "Papals." And not even heard back from them. The only thing "Papals" has to do with the Vatican is I said "HOLY SHIT, my self-esteem is so low I'm applying to Papals, and not even getting hired there!"