July 1, 2010

the question of choice

I saw her standing on the sidewalk as I was driving to work. Someone's grandmother waiting for the bus. At least that was my first thought.

Then the car in front of me slowed to pull into the drive. That's when the elderly lady in the flowing dress and floppy straw hat whipped around and starting shaking her rosary at the passing car.

It was only at that moment that I realized I was in front of the Albuquerque Planned Parenthood clinic. And the grandmother wasn't there to catch a ride on the local mass transit.

As a man, I have my own opinions about a woman's right to choose. As a gay man, I don't really have too much personal stake in what a woman chooses to do. And just because I happen to be pro-choice, it doesn't mean I am anti-life.

My own personal encounter with this kind of decision was about 17 years ago. I was living in Atlanta at the time, and a friend of the guy I was dating found herself pregnant. Her choice was to end the pregnancy. I don't know all the details as to how she came to her decision. I just know that I went along as "support" (who's I'm not exactly sure....whether it was my boyfriend, or his friend?) as we drove her to the clinic.

I stayed in the car. I didn't know her well enough to actually go inside with her. But there is one detail I don't think I'll ever forget. This gal decided that she didn't want any anesthesia or pain medication during the procedure. She wanted to remember it as a "reminder to be smarter" about her sexual practices. In my opinion, that's pretty extreme birth control. But we all have our ways of reminding ourselves about the decisions we make and their consequences.

The rosary-waving grandmother isn't the first person I've seen standing and waiting in front of the Planned Parenthood clinic. There have been others. And yet some days, no one.

I personally can't imagine finding myself facing that kind of question. I don't know what I would do.

I also have no idea what the person in the car in front of me was thinking as they turned into the clinic parking lot. I don't know if they were there to find answers. Or solutions.

Or if they were just there to lend support to a friend who was facing a very difficult choice.

July 1, 2010

thumping

The "thump, thump, thump" of the bass was so loud it rattled the windows. Not of the car. But of my office windows. You see, my new office overlooks a fastfood restaurant. The noise was coming from a blue Chevy truck.

Hearing that glass-rattling "music" from inside a building that is 15 feet from the drive-thru lane makes my ears bleed when I think about how loud it must be inside the vehicle. (It also makes me think about how "old" I must be when I complain about someone else's music.) Sure, I'm guilty of cranking the tunes when something that resonates emerges from the iPod through my car audio system. But it's rarely what I would call "thumping bass" music. More than likely, it's something more....acoustic. Or jazz-like. Or choral. (I suppose that laundry list of music genres does indeed give away the fact that I'm definitely closer to 50 than 20. That and the fact that the only things I seem to "thump" these days are of the melon variety.)

After working for the last 15 months mostly in my home office, it's definitely an adjustment to being back in a work environment. There are more external noises and distractions. Shadows of people in the frosted glass, passing or entering the office next door. The chime of the front door opening. People having conversations in the hall. Or other offices. (It's a small place, 12 employees, but so far in the 3.5 days I've been here, not all present at the same time. Yet.)

I'm also very aware of my own noise. My music plays almost too softly, making it difficult at times to even hear at all. (The culprit is probably too many "old" songs that were recorded at different volume levels than what seems to be the norm these days. Even with the iPod settings adjusted, the range in volume is considerable...and I have to adjust to the loudest common denominator.)

Thankfully, they also switched out my computer keyboard to something that is slimmer, and has the feel of a laptop keyboard (Apple Wireless keyboard). The old white wired one felt...clunky. It also had issues with sticking keys. I can't tell you how many things were missing "t's" or "r's" which were the most common offenders. I'm getting to the point where I'm going to suggest they get one for the person in the office next door. Let's just say someone "attacks" the keys with vigor.

I know it's just a matter of time before I'll adjust to all the nuances of working in an office. I also know it's just a matter of time before I start wearing the headphones I brought with me on my first day. That way I can listen to my music a little louder, while blocking out some of the external noise so I can concentrate. And without thumping the frosted panels that surround my office on 2 sides, or the windows that comprise the majority of the other two.

June 16, 2010

jumping through hoops of inefficiency

Normal.dotm 0 0 1 103 591 Jerry Writes 4 1 725 12.0 0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false

If anyone needs to experience inefficiency firsthand, just apply for a government job. At least that has been my experience so far.

I know a few people who work for the TSA here in NM, and thought, with my unemployment and COBRA running out in November, that it could be (at a minimum) a source of some money and health insurance.

For the last year, I’ve bounced back and forth from occasional freelance projects and completing unemployment forms to help keep a roof over my head and food on the table. I found myself in this situation after two layoffs in 8 months from either loss of accounts, or loss of sanity on one particular position. And with no full-time prospects on the horizon, I submitted an online application.

I already knew that, should I get hired, I would only be working 25 hours a week (5 hour shifts on 5 days) initially. And I was ok with that. The pay wasn't the greatest, but sure beat minimum wage. And our friend that was doing it here enjoyed it. Sunport Airport isn't the busiest, so it seemed like it wouldn't be too stressful while offering flexibility to build my freelance business.

More than 3 months have passed since I first applied for a part-time TSA position. The online application process was fairly painless. I was even surprised to get notification to schedule the computer test within 2 weeks. Even more surprising — I received an email saying I had passed the computer test before I even got out to my car from the testing center. I immediately went home and completed the requested forms thinking the process was going to move much quicker than anticipated.

Then the emails and phone calls started, all requesting that I send in the requested forms. I began inquiring about my status, and was assured both by phone and email that my forms had indeed been received. (The phone part was no walk in the park, with each time I've had to call I've been on hold for at least 45 minutes.) Even after confirmation, I continued receiving notifications to submit the forms. This process went from weeks, to months. It was only after I asked an acquaintance who was pretty high up in the local TSA office did actual movement begin.

Last week was my in-person assessment. Again, what should have been an hour long process took nearly 2 because "the person responsible for the exit processing is in a hearing." This person only walked me from the waiting area to an office where within 2 minutes another person blessed my paperwork and sent me on my way. So I waited 45 minutes for someone to walk me from the lobby to an office??!?! Could someone else not have performed this "critical" step in the process?

Today was my medical exam. If the toughest part of the exam is to pee in a cup, and bend down and touch your toes, I'm just wondering why anyone would give beauracracy such a bad rep.

So now, more than 90 days into the process, I'm seriously asking myself if I would be better off becoming a barrista, or going back to waiting tables and bartending (something I haven't done in over 15 years). At least then I would know whether I had the job or not probably after only 1 interview.

Thankfully, the whole process was part of my backup plan. The day of my in-person assessment I received a phone call from a company I've been freelancing for occasionally over the last year. They offered me a full-time position. With benefits. After one interview (well, formal interview since we've been working together and know what we're both getting into) that lasted about 2 hours, I'll soon be back in the ranks of the employed.

June 15, 2010

early morning buzz

6:10am. Yet another morning where I’m awake way too early. Only this time it wasn’t biological. Well, for me.

I heard scratching. I look from the bed toward one of the dogs’ crates. Cody is standing up, pawing the gate. My first thought was “someone needs to go to the bathroom…now!” so I hop out of bed and open her crate. But instead of running to the back door, she jumps up on the bed and begins kissing up my partner. (It’s a normal morning routine. I get up, and release the hounds….well, terriers. After some stretching/rolling around/tummy rubs from yours truly, they jump up on the bed via the bench positioned at the foot and run up on the better half, tails and tongues wagging.)

Of course, at this point, I’m thinking WTF? Why did we need to get up 45 minutes early? And apparently Cody wasn’t the only restless one. L asks me if I slept ok. I thought so? Instead, I’m told that I was fidgety and thrashed around most of the night. My only memory (which was fading fast as my body and brain began to emerge from sleep) was having some bizarre dreams (again, pretty routine for my world), but don’t really recall any thrashing on my part.

But then, the girls are off the bed. Frantic rushing around, in and out of the bedroom. Back and forth to the master bath. Out into the great room. But never to the back door. Then the reality of the situation sets in.

There’s a fly in the house.

Our little radar ears have picked up the buzz. (Or was that just me with one last gasp of a snore?) Our girls (Cairn Terriers, with mouser DNA through and through) are excellent fly hunters. They’re also quite good with lizards, bunnies, bird and butterfly shadows. They’ll pace and run around the house until that pesky little fly is caught.

Or until it’s time for breakfast. Then Cody’s food-driven obsession takes over.

It’s only while I’m cleaning up their breakfast dishes do I locate the culprit. It’s buzzing in the window above the kitchen sink, where, with one swat of the dishtowel (Hey! It was going into the laundry pile anyway!), the distraction is gone. Just like the last hour of sleep that now I feel I so desperately want.