30 May 2009

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Today I ran into Linda, the person whose apartment was broken into earlier. Happened to run across each other at the complex. I've always been acquaintances with her and John, they met me back when I was first moving in. Like I said, I don't do much in the way of socialization, but we always speak when we bump into each other, occasionally meet up when we're feeling like a cookout or something of the sort. We spent some time catching up.

We got around to the break-in. Police still haven't found who broke in, and she's pretty much given up hope of that happening. She said it was funny, though. Not much was taken. Their TV, computer, and not much else. Jewelry, money, other valuables were left behind. We figure they must have been noticed in the act.

"But if that's the case, y'know, why didn't the cops find anyone who saw 'em in the act?"

A good question, I had to admit.

I asked her where she and John had been. Turns out they have...had...family in Atlanta. Family that worked at CNN Headquarters.

"I...y'know...I can't really describe it. It's more than a nightmare. It's a real nightmare. I mean, it's reality. It's not some dream. It's actually happened down there.

"CNN Headquarters are gone. But throughout the city there are other obliterated blocks, or other streets where the rubble is still being sifted through. It wasn't just CNN, y'know? There were other buildings, other businesses....

"The trip cost us half our savings. Between gas, food, and panic inflation it's a wonder we still have some left. John stayed down to help with the cleanup and rebuild. I had to get back, y'know? I couldn't stay there and watch 'em.

"We had to 'park' our car on the outskirts. It's like people were gathering for a concert, or a big campout. All of 'em out there with their tents and depression. Transportation into the city was provided, for a fee. So many people doing what we were doing, looking for loved ones, leaving empty-handed."

She got choked up. I didn't press the point.

"Atlanta ain't there any more. It's not Atlanta. It'd be hell, but at least the police are keeping the panicked jackasses from causing too many problems. Some people snap, but it's dealt with pretty quickly. But that doesn't stop...doesn't stop people from takin' care of themselves...the last night I was there, the tent next to ours...." She mimed a gun next to her head. "Pehw. Y'know?" She bit her lip and turned away, looking down. "Was time for me to come back."

Man...how do you offer sympathies for that? And I dared not ask about her family. Conversation kinda broke down at that point. As we gave our quiet goodbyes, I remembered something. Asked if she'd registered yet.

"Do what?"

"You gotta register again with the city hall. Guess public records were damaged or something."

"No...we haven't done that. Hadn't heard a thing."

"Be sure to get down there. If you don't register by the end of the...oh god."

"What?"

She didn't have any way of getting in touch with John. "If you don't register by the end of the month, they're threatening deportation."

Panic flashed across her face, hand going to halfway to her mouth before she shook her head. "No way they'll be that cruel. They gotta understand the situation some of us are in, y'know?"

I think she wanted my confirmation. I couldn't give it.

"I'll go tomorrow. John'll figure something out, I'm sure."

I'm sure.

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29 May 2009

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So. Yesterday.

Oh god yesterday.

Let's...if you...okay...

Man, I don't even know where to start. Let's start like this. I now know why they give you a 3-day weekend after orientation.

They're not TOTAL cold-hearted bastards.

Take some steel wool. Stretch it, roll it out, get it into a nice, long, comparatively thin strip. Okay so you probably can't do that with steel wool but imagine something like that. With me so far?

Now, floss between your ears vigorously while admitting to every negative or anti-governemt thought you've ever had, ever.

Keep doing so until the goo leaking out your ears is the consistency of applesauce.

Serve warm. Feeds 2. 300 calories/serving.

Yesterday was the part of government work they don't advertise. I guess maybe my work will be a little more sensitive than I previously imagined. But to finalize my orientation I had to take part in a background check/personal interview while strapped to a lie detector.

We started at about 9:15. Dude walked in, lean guy with that half-scruffy look of someone who knows he looks better with a day's growth. Friendly enough but with an ex-military air of situational command about him. Asked me if there was anything I needed, maybe some water, strapped me in and sat down in front of me. Room was lit but subdued, little more than a library reading room. Wall color hard to determine from the lighting. Stainless steel desks for the machinery and paperwork. A couple of simple wooden chairs, comfortable enough. Could have used a little more ventilation.

The interviewer apologized, said it was routine, not to feel like I was accused of anything. Then, with arched eyebrow, half-smile, asked if maybe I SHOULD feel accused of anything?

No no, of course not, I assured him. He smiled understandingly.

"Well let's find out then." A nod, a flip of a switch, a pen scratching on paper, and we were off.

Started innocuously enough. Name, address, previous addresses, any foreign travel experience, any personal references.

"Are you or have you ever been a member of any online organizations?"

I paused for a second, looking up. "No, not that I recall."

He glanced at me, eyes suddenly sharp, digging. "Funny, we have you listed as registered at the following sites." He showed me a page listing several of the message boards I frequented at one time or another.

Oh hey I've been spied on. That's grand.

The machine flickered; the interviewer's eyes flick up. He leaned forward.

"I hardly posted here, I was mostly just an observer. Even then they were just hobbies, I'd hardly call them organizations."

"We do. Especially this one." He pointed to the address of the site I visited back during the temporary Internet uppage. "Quite a few on this site express opinions that would be...detrimental...to a successful career here."

"Heh, I won't argue that, but if you know I'm a member there then you can easily look up my posts."

"Just because you don't post doesn't mean you don't read. Several days ago, did you visit this site?"

"You mean, when Internet access came back to life for a bit?" I nodded. "Sure, but just to catch up with the latest news."

"You call what you find here news?"

"Well, okay, I guess I should say opi--"

"What topics did you read about?"

"Just a few theories about what hap--"

"Conspiracies. Your thoughts on them?"

"Well, I've never been much of a tin-foil-hatter, 9/11 truther type. I was just looking to see if anyone had anything solid to report."

"Did you join any groups forming on that site." It wasn't exactly a question. I thought back.

I had typed my e-mail address in, but I got the error message after. "No, I didn't."

"Try again." Veiled threat?

I freaked a little bit here. "I didn't, I swear. I typed my e-mail address in to keep track with some friends, but before I could send the connection went back dead. Nothing happened."

The interviewer leaned back. "Be aware, sir, your future employment here is dependent on keeping vital government information secret and personal. Should we have any reason to believe that there is any sort of leak, you will be terminated."

Maybe it was just me, but there seemed to be a bit of a heavier touch on his last word.

He smiled. "Let's move on."

He asked me a few questions related to the robbery at my apartment complex. Seemed concerned about the situation. Asked how the security system was holding up, if I had had any issues. Then we moved on to friends, associates, and even forgotten classmates. That was about as pleasant as the online-association conversation.

"Do you remember" insert name here.

"Uh..."

"Seventh grade. Same homeroom."

"Vaguely? Maybe?"

"When was the last time you talked with" whoever.

"Seventh grade homeroom."

A quiet voice. "Try not to get smart. Leave the intelligence to me."

Dude was GOOD with the implied threat. His voice was quietness and promised pain.

"Do you remember" someone else. "Tenth grade French class. Now under suspicion of working overseas. Any contact with them recently?"

"What about --"

"Have you heard from --"

"-- is registered in our files as a terrorist sympathizer"

"...gotten in touch with --"

"NO, OKAY? NO I HAVE NOT HEARD FROM ANY OF THESE PEOPLE. HELL I HAVEN'T EVEN THOUGHT OF THEM IN YEARS AND WOULD PREFER TO FORGET MOST OF THEM."

A pause. A silence. An eternity of staredown.

"...for your job safety," again, funny emphasis, "keep it that way." He stood. "And one last thing. We know about the blog. We don't mind the blog. Just make sure you respect the level of security appropriated to each individual project. We're not monsters here." The lower half of his face smiled. Then he exited, leaving me sitting there for about half an hour.

Finally the door opened again, and Mr. Welsh entered, all smiles and relaxation. "My apologies, Mr. Wall. Hate to welcome you to the family that way, but we can't be too careful. ESPECIALLY nowadays. I'm sure you understand?"

I wiped a bit of sweat from my forehead. "Yeah, I mean yes sir, sure. Still, wow."

He arched an eyebrow, but still smiling, still friendly. "Wow?"

"Yeah. You guys are thorough."

"It's part of the job, I'm afraid. Welcome to the New World. At least you're a part of it, right?"

Seemed to be a bit of significance to that statement that I was too tired to try to sort through. I just nodded.

He handed me one of his business cards. "Here, show this at the pub across the street. They'll make sure you get patched up properly. I can't have you walking out of here too torn up. Save that for over there!" He laughed. Confidence and friendliness.

I nodded my thanks, and was allowed to leave. I saw my +mates at the pub, but they looked as zapped as I was and barely recognized me.

We were all happier trying to patch our psyches back together on our own, I think.

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28 May 2009

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we'll \talk tomorrowr honehy. ijust wanna forget about today

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27 May 2009 evening

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Nope, I wasn't the only one. Chris, Cam, and Elle, my three companions from the night before, were just as ragged. And once my hangover subsided, my initial assessment of this job still held.

So cubicle jobs get a bad rap. Fair enough. But when 1) your survival depends on holding down a source of regular income and 2) the only other job you've had before is behind a register, cubicles don't seem so bad at all. Downright comfy, really.

Yesterday was the paperwork and the tour. I'm in a smaller cubicle farm up on a higher floor in the city hall building. The computer I get to play with? Droolworthy. Two monitors at the same time? Hell, just one of them's twice the size of this laptop's screen. Even have my own little daily-emptied trash can. Nice.

Cubicles walls are set up in a +, with the 'offices' in each of the four corners. The three people I mentioned before share a + with me. I seem to remember my +mates being pretty awesome. That's about all I remember from last night. Didn't spend much time with them today. I'm hoping that won't be a trend....

Today was an introduction both to the job benefits and to some of the work I'd be responsible for. First and foremost benefits-wise, there's a small pay advance for those "facing extreme financial circumstances," as the paperwork claims.

Needless to say I qualified.

Turns out I DID get the PSA editor position. After orientation, I "will be responsible for taking government health, safety, security, etc. notices and passing them on to the public through various media outlets." In other words, I take pompous legalese, turn it into stuff people can understand at a glance, and spread it over the airwaves and, er, paperwaves?

The best part? NO CUSTOMERS.

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27 May 2009 ohgod make the alarm stop owowowow

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ugh...my only consolation this morning is that I can't be the only one feeling this horrible.

didn't know steamrollers could fit inside my apartment. without waking me. nor that they could run me over multiple times without busting the air mattress.

wonders never cease.

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26 May 2009 waytoolaet

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I think...I think I love my job.

I think I love my job and I think I love my coworkers and especially Elle.

Think that's how it's spelled god I can't remember can you

No you can't you can't hear me you weren't there and you're not here and that is ok!

I bettre sleep the screen won't hold still why wont you hold still screen i did not tell yo uto spin!

SPIIIIIIN!

Ok no more spin please.


ohgod it's late how late were we out

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25 May 2009

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So a little more about the job.

I start tomorrow, 9 am, for orientation.

And that's all I know at this point.

President Lee released another video today. I'm sure the man is busy trying to hold together a nation fragmented by the devastating attacks a month ago, but I wish he'd do these more often. We could use some optimism as a nation. A reminder we ARE a nation.

Seriously, this guy...I almost forget which party he's from. Which makes sense. Partisan bickering was finally shown for the childish drama it was when framed by an honest nation-threatening situation. But I'm talking even before then. Always deftly dodging the bait-loaded questions of politically-slanted shows and reporters, but doing so with answers that weren't insubstantial. He answered your question, but on his terms. And yet, the answer never easily fit into any black-or-white political ideology. I mean, sure, he obviously LEANED one way with his focus on change, but in the same breath he always managed to touch upon multiple views of the same coin. And he gave all views a fair shake.

And when he does make a stand, when he does say "I'm sorry, but I can only see THIS as being what should be done," he does so in a way that placates all but the most hard-lined of his opposition.

Which is good, because he's started taking a stand. Some people may be off-put by the control he's exerting, but really, I find it a relief that somebody's taking charge and doing SOMETHING to restore normalcy. I mean, crazy times call for crazy measures, right?

Makes sense to me.

So the re-registration isn't a big deal. I'm already done; I'm sure lots of records were lost in the attacks. Makes sense. Also if you're reading this I HOPE YOU'VE REGISTERED. Get it done...I'd hate to see anybody I know deported. Less than a week guys. Get on it.

One thing that IS a big deal though, and something I find to be a rather brilliant move, is the guns-for-food program he announced. In case you didn't see the report, the basics: anybody who brings in live ammunition or registered guns will receive an equivalent amount of foodstamps. This should take a significant amount of weapons out of the hands of would-be looters. People who were considering using their weapons to take food can now trade them to EARN food.

Yeah, I like the idea. But I did have worries -- won't that give even more power to those who hold on to their weapons?

Well, it could, President Lee admitted. However (and this is the biggest of the big deal), the President has declared a type of martial law, making armed robbery a capital offense. One punishable by local law enforcement.

I mean, I've got mixed feelings. Putting that kind of power in the hands of local police? But I think his stipulations, coupled with the fact that we ARE in the situation we're in, justify his actions. (For the record, any officer who uses deadly force is out of a job pending a jury's review. If the review clears him or her, they can go back to work. If they are found to have acted improperly, they face a capital offense charge themselves.)

I don't think I'm the only one who sees this as a necessary evil, especially in the context outlined by President Lee. Though it's odd not being able to switch to a cable network and see talking heads talking about how foolish, outlandish, country-ruiningish the idea is. Still, would anybody make such claims right now?

President Lee went on to mention progress made in restoring national networks, though conspicuously missing from his released statement was anything touching on the half-day of complete access. Maybe it was just a trial run?

And is anybody surprised that the attacks have been linked to Al-Qaida? I had hoped the War on Terror had busted up their organization beyond the ability to pull off something like this. Guess not....

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24 May 2009

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Stomach woke me up, which is ironic 'cause I was still asleep in the first place trying to escape it. Lounged on my air mattress, blankets a jumbled chaos. Never was much of a still sleeper. Probably talk in my sleep too. Not sure though, haven't had anyone around to inform me of such in a while.

Formerly navy blue, now threadbare-blue curtains give a half-assed attempt to keep out the noonday sun. I learned long ago how to sleep in bright conditions. Hell, I've been on this horrible schedule so long the sun tends to make me sleepy.

Glanced down at the foot of my bed. Dirty clothes pile is starting to get larger than the clean pile...will have to look into doing laundry soon. Fortunately, the clean pile still contained the essentials.

A slow rise up and a few steps led to the bathroom with a cramped toilet and standing-room-only affair of a shower. One nice thing about the place -- water pressure is solid, and water temp provides a solid 20 minutes' worth of wake-me-up-warm showering. (I'm a slow waker.) Have to remember to shut the door to keep the water vapor from triggering the fire alarm. No better way to make enemies of your neighbors, doing that.

I wonder how the neighbors are doing. Never was much of a socializer, but that doesn't mean I'm not concerned. Still, I figure if they need any help, they'll come knocking.

Not that I'd be of much help. A few steps towards the studio apartment's door brought me to a kitchen nearly as empty as the growling pit in the center of my person. A half-eaten pack of dry ramen tantalizes, but I ignored it, needing to delay as long as possible. Ignored the temptation to recheck the fridge, the cabinets, the dusty-from-disuse microwave, the gaping oven. The last of my cash will go either towards food or gas, depending on if I get the job.

I'm half-starving myself to postpone the point where I have to go mooching off of employed friends. Even in normal circumstances I wouldn't want to ever be reduced to that, but nowadays a slight burden can be a significant hazard. Don't want to do that to anyone.

But I can't keep this up much longer. If I don't get this job, I've got to have the energy to try again elsewhere. If it weren't for Andy, I'd be a panicking wreck. As it is, I'm already trying to find a way to convince my conscience that it's ok, I'd do the same for him if our roles were reversed, so surely he won't mind?

Snapped off a few strands of noodle from the block; midday snack. Leaned against the apartment's door as I played my newly-created game of How Slow Can You Chew?

My personal record is 27 seconds between mastications.

Then I sat down in my only chair, in front of my only piece of furniture: a minimalistic computer desk, the type made from metal pipes and cheap wood planks you can find at any discount chain. A leftover from my college days. The TV sits on it, and this laptop sits on it. I sit on the chair, and we are all happy.

Wait, no. No we're not. We're hungry. I'm hungry for calories. TV is hungry for ESPN. Laptop is hungry for full net access.

At least the chair's not hungry. Not sure I'd want to share its meal though.

So now we're caught up. Hi. Welcome to the present.

Not exactly where I saw myself ten years from now, ten years ago.

And, uh--hold on.



...



Yeah, uh, that sound? That was my phone. I KNOW, I keep forgetting what it sounds like too!

I, uhm, wow.

I got the job.

If you need me, I'll be feasting on the rest of that ramen.

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23 May 2009 late night

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8:57 am. Dabbing at my forehead with a tissue, praying my application and resume aren't stuck together with sweat.

"Mr. Wall." It wasn't a question.

"Uhm, yes, that's me, how did--"

"Your papers, please. ID, please. Second? Very good. Have a seat; we will be with you shortly."

Black rimmed glasses, crisp black two-piece suit. Brown hair tightly, perfectly arranged. May have been an attractive 30-ish lady behind them. Or an automaton.

Efficient vinyl seats. Grimy fingerprinted newspaper haphazardly discarded on the adjacent table. Walls a pale yellow-white that would almost not have been out of style decades ago. Slight flaking.

Chose the chair directly under the air vent, maybe it'll keep my pit stains from becoming any darker.

Out of habit, I glanced through the paper. Much thinner than I remember the daily being, not that I read it much. No national section. No sports section. Comics all repeats.

At 9:05, an angel walked past me. At least, I think one did. Admittedly I was more than a little distracted (what with my survival dependent upon this interview) but I'm pretty sure the person who left with an unreturned 'Thank you!' tossed to the secretary was a startlingly cute woman. Slim, petite, moving quickly but not hurried or hassled.

She didn't notice me, which is just as well. I'm bad enough with small talk as it is. The current environment would have been murderous.

"Mr. Wall, your interview is now. Please enter."

And so I did.

"Mr. Wall! A pleasure!" Extended hand, peppery hair. Welcoming smile. Fit enough to show he had the drive to take care of himself, thick enough to show he could afford to enjoy the occasional decadence. Only thing missing was a cigar.

"Have a seat. Son, you look pale, have you been eating alright?"

"Er, well..."

"I guess not! Here." The secretary walked in with coffee and a deli tray, before disappearing without a word.

"Please, help yourself Mr. Wall. I want to get to know you at your best, right?" He smiled, and I had a moment to take in my surroundings.

Mahogany. The color, the matieral. Looked like a medium-sized board or meeting room, with far more plush leather chairs than were necessary for the interview. Projection screen at one end. I sat on one end of the lengthy table, with Mr....

"I'm sorry, I didn't even give you my name." Sip of coffee. "I'm James Welsh."

...with Mr. Welsh sitting directly across from me. I fought with myself not to load my plate with half of the tray. My stomach growled with every cube of cheese, every slice of deli meat I took.

After a minute, we got started.

The interview was standard fare. What are your best qualities? Your worst? Give an example of when you went the extra mile. Please be specific. What would your last employer have to say about you? Then came the real question.

Mr. Welsh clasped his hands in front of himself and leaned forward, looking intently at me.

"Mr. Wall. How persuasive are you?"

"Fairly so, I guess. I have little trouble getting others to understand my side of the story."

"Ah, but how good are you at getting them to believe your side?"

I paused, looking up, thinking.

"Mr. Wall. I want the rest of that tray of food. It is delicious, and such a tray is far more expensive nowadays than it used to be. I may very well be your future boss. My happiness, my fullness, my very well-being is, for all intents and purposes, more important than yours."

He paused.

"Keeping all this in mind, convince me that you should have the rest of this tray."

After a minute, I started. Three minutes of me talking and him nodding passed.

Slowly, he reached, took a cube of cheese, and chewed on it slowly, seeming to consider something. The secretary entered.

"Mr. Wall, your interview has concluded. We will be in contact with you shortly."

I stood and thanked them both for their time. Neither seemed to notice.

I have no idea what to think. Someone tell me this is a good sign?

Please?

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