Chapter 2

The next morning I was up, showered, fed, and on the way to the unemployment office by seven. I found the place easier than I thought I would. It didn't open until eight, so I stood by the door using my aluminum cane to lean on. Several people came up to the door and rattled it. When I pointed to the sign with my cane that gave the hours they each cursed turned and walked away. My thought was no sense in leaving if this was where you needed to be.

When the door opened, I spotted a take a number machine so I pulled the first tab available and stood by an aisle as I thought I would be called first. No such luck. My number was one seventy-three and the number called was one fifty-one. An older man in work clothes got up and went to the window. I had not thought that people from the day before had numbers and were going to be waiting this morning. Nothing left to do but sit down and wait.

With eight workers interviewing applicants, it only took forty-five minutes to be called. After explaining my position, the lady handed me a stack of forms and told me to fill them out and bring them back to her. I only needed to come up and stand near her window and she would help me as soon as the person she was working with left.

It took over a half-hour to fill out all of the forms. Once the woman was helping me again, she said I might not be eligible for benefits as I was receiving a benefit from the Veterans administration. She went to check with her supervisor, came back to tell me that I was entitled to unemployment benefits, and would receive my first check two weeks from the date of my discharge.

When she acted as if I were dismissed, I asked, "Don't you folks also help unemployed people find a job? Most of the information I just filled out is like a job application."

She looked at me as if I had a big pimple on my nose then said, "Do you really want to find a job?"

"Yes ma'am, I do. If you look at the forms I do have several qualifications that would suit me to many jobs. When I was looking at the classified ads last night there weren't any that looked like I would be qualified for."

"Let me assign you to a career counselor so you can be guided in the right direction." The lady picked up her phone, spoke a few minutes and wrote a name and number on a pad.

She tore off the top piece of paper from the pad and handed it to me. "Please go to the third floor and speak with Lorna Williams in room 312. Ms. Williams is a career counselor for military personnel re-entering the work force."

I nodded, smiled, and made my way toward a sign that said "Elevator."

Room 312 had a closed door, so I knocked on the door and waited for someone to grant me entry. I knocked again but much louder and waited again listening.

A short fat little man with Coke bottle glasses opened the door next to the 312 and said, "Lorna is not here. She just left on break. If you will come back in a half hour, she should be back."

I looked up and down the hallway and didn't see any chairs and didn't remember any in the elevator vestibule. I decided to just stand there and wait, thinking that it was pretty rude to know someone is on their way up to see you, and to take off like that.

Forty-five minutes later the little fat man came out of his office and looked at me. "Did you just come back or have you been here all this time?"

I didn't answer but waited, listening for what he had to say. He raised his eyebrows and said, "You must have missed her as she came back from her break but just left for the day to take care of personal business."

You know the feeling, a cross between anger, disappointment, and frustration. It makes you shiver with the cold anger that swirls through your body.

I nodded then went to the elevators and went back to stand at the clerk's window I had been served at originally. When the person she had been helping left she asked me what the problem was.

After explaining what had just transpired she picked up her phone and made a call. While she was talking, I could see her face turn red as she became perturbed. I heard her ask, "Where the hell are you? You're not in your office as a man with a bad leg and cane waited for you to come back from your break. How did I just call you and where the hell are you?"

The worker listened for a few minutes before slamming the phone down. She pointed her finger at my side of the counter and said, "You stay right where you are. I have to see my supervisor."

Less than five minutes later, another lady came to the window with the worker and said, "Mr. Johnson, I'm sorry you had to wait for someone that wasn't present. Could you give us your phone number and we will call you with an appointment time?"

I closed my eyes and opened them slowly, "I don't have a phone and probably can't afford one for a while or at least until I can get a job. I need to work to feed myself. I used most of my exit money to rent a place to live, purchase transportation, and some clothes from Goodwill so I can get a job and have a way to get to it. Please, do you by any chance have a job for someone right here?"

The supervisor looked at me funny, "Would you work here? In an office, helping unemployed people? It's not the best place in the world to work?"

I wasn't trying to be a wise guy, but I had to ask, "Do you get paid, do you have a nice home with a telephone?"

She almost frowned then smiled and asked, "Can you type?"

I nodded.

"Would you take an aptitude and typing test?"

I nodded again.

The lady laughed and said, "Perhaps you need to have a talking examination instead of a typing test. Come with me. Go to the far end where there is a gate and come through there."

The supervisor had garnered my stack of forms that I had filled out and led me to a small conference room. She seated me, left, and returned with a file folder. She handed me three number two pencils and a group of forms and said, "Please take your time and answer each of these questions to the best of your ability. This is an aptitude questionnaire. It is designed to identify your most effective work areas. There is no time limit. If you need to use the restroom, there is one out this door and to your right. There is also a drinking fountain there. Please see me in my office when you're finished. It is the first door on your left."

There were six sheets of paper with questions on each side. The print was very small and a little smudged. If you didn't have good eyesight, it would be impossible to complete the forms.

There were no trick questions, but they did ask the same thing in different ways about ten times for every question. It took an hour and fifteen minutes to complete all the questions. It was now eleven fifty and people would be going to lunch. I went next door, fully expecting the supervisor to be gone to lunch.

The door was open, so I knocked on the door jam. She looked up and said, "Come in." She held her hand out for the papers and said, "Please sit for a minute."

While sitting I watched as she took a form with holes in it and began counting where I had filled in the little box. Her desk was reasonably neat with some file folders and a pad. There was a large name display. It said, "Metarie White."

I had to smile as Metarie White was a very, very dark skinned lady. She was an, what should she be called now, African American? Black? To me she was just a person, so she was just Ms. White.

It seemed to take as long to grade and define the test as it did to take it. She looked up and asked, "Are you familiar with a computer keyboard?"

I nodded.

"Yes ma'am would do better than a nod, Mr. Johnson."

"Yes ma'am."

She chuckled. "Please have a seat at the computer to your right. Turn it on and when it finishes booting I'll tell you the program to use."

One thing the Marines do have is computers. They have computers in the barracks, computers in the library, computers in the day rooms, even computers in the chow hall. If you didn't know how to boot up a computer and read directions, you would never know what you were assigned to do from day to day.

Upon boot up, I asked and was told what program to use. Ms. White told me to put on the headset and use the mouse to start the test. She said the first one would be to let me warm up and the second would be the timed event.

Hallelujah, I had done something right in high school. I had taken two computer classes. The first semester was only typing, next we learned how various programs worked.

Upon completing the typing test, a full screen came on with the number ninety-six flashing on the screen. When I turned to advise Ms. White, she was already looking and said, "Hit escape." She paused and gave me another program to find. There wasn't a screen icon for it, so I had to go to the XP program list to find it.

Once I had the program booted, Ms. White reached over my shoulder and asked me to enter the information she had derived when she graded my aptitude questionnaire.

This took almost fifteen minutes. I clicked on the "submit" icon and a printer next to Ms. White's desk whirred and spit out several printed sheets.

She looked over them and occasionally kept referring to the application form that I had filled out downstairs.

"I know you have not had lunch, Mr. Johnson, so would you like to accompany me to the restaurant next door. The big rush should just about be over, so we should be able to get a table. Let me take these with me." She gathered up all the papers she had held and put them in a folder." As she got up from her desk, she said, "This will be Dutch. I'm not allowed to buy lunch for a prospective employee or an existing employee."

I nodded, but said, "Yes ma'am."

Metarie White smiled broadly that I had answered her.

The restaurant was a cross between a self-serve cafeteria and a serving line. I chose a Cuban sandwich that a cafeteria worker put into the presser for me. I also bought a large ice tea.

Upon sitting down, Ms. White said, "You have good manners, Mr. Johnson. You held every door, you had me precede you in the serving line, and finally you even seated me at the table. Manners are important and I look for them in prospective employees. Your aptitude questionnaire says you would do well in our environment and that you would make a good team member, as well as an eventual leader. You do not have any experience other than your military training and combat experience. You did not finish a degree in school, but you scored very high in the general knowledge area which is usually only accomplished after finishing a degree program. Eat up Mr. Johnson and let me think about this."