air.
Wednesday, October 2, 2002
05:15 p.m.
So I've been working days at the Community Action Centre, which is where people with no money go to find out how to get food stamps and rental assistance and things like that. It's note quite the dole office, but we do share a building with them.
All variety of people come by my desk in a day. There are the ones who are used to better things and have just fallen on hard times--pregnancies, injuries, sudden emergencies--these are the ones who are completely lost, and have no idea what to do when they get here. There are the ones who grew up with gobernment handouts and know every loophole, every programme, everything they figure they're entitled to. And then there are the ones who've been doing it forever and are just tired of it, tired of everything really, just tired.
I have also never still so many people who are missing most of their teeth.
There was a fellow in today to turn in the 'what we want for christmas' letter for his family (you know, for the Giving Tree and such) and wanted me to tell him what size clothes his kids wear.
I have never seen his children. He says his daughter is 12, and looks at me expectantly--good grief, 12-year-olds can be anywhere from 4 1/2 to 6 feet tall! (Well, a girl is probably not 6 feet tall, but you know what I mean.) So then--get this--he REALLY makes points by saying, "She's about as tall as you, but she's skinny." Excuse me? I mean, a Calvin Klein model I am not, but even on my worst icky bloated days I have room to spare in my size 10 Gap jeans. I suggest he put his daughter down as a size 6 and hope for the best.
Then he wants to know what size his 4 year old boys are. Again, there is no set size for children of a certain age. Furthermore I have no children, I know no children (except Cassandra, I suppose, adn if someone asked me what size she wears I would stare at them blankly) and therefore I have no idea how they even size kids' clothes! I vaguely remember shopping in a department labeled '7-14' in the latter half of elementary school, but seriously, shopping for clothes was not something I did a lot of at the time. Besides, it was a very long time ago. And even if I did remember, it wouldn't help me now what size an unknown 4-yr-old boy would be.
Anyway, that's my job. I also got a letter today in the mail from WSU for this Broadcast Technician job I applied for back in the summer, that says I pass all their qualifications (I bloody well hope so!) and they might want to interview me. This is a purely technical job, does not require a degree, and yet--get this--still makes more than either my job OR my flatmate's. Anyway, a letter is not an interview, so it doesn't matter much really.
It's a beautiful fall. It's warm and bright, but crisp, in that way only fall cacn really be. The horse-chestnut tree in the front yard is turning red. I want to make my house all pretty and autumn-ish, unfortunately, when one is working 50-60 hours a week, it's hard enough to do things like keep the shower clean and wash the dishes. (I have a sink full of dishes.) Not that I know what I'd do anyway, really, since I am not much of a decourator-type person.
I found the course schedule for the Masters' scheme I want, also have come up with a potential dissertation topic. Yes I realise this is a bit premature, since I haven't actually been accepted to Aberystwyth yet, but hey, it never hurts to be prepared.
