"You're Getting a Job"

Me and my trusty bicycle with basket that helped me deliver thousands of newspapers  1951-1956

The year was 1952. I was ten years old.  I was the oldest of the three sons of Ike and Betty Tipton.  Ike, my father, was a transplanted hillbilly. He came to Pennsylvania from the western mountains of North Carolina with his eight brothers (two more would be born in Pennsylvania) when he was ten years old.  He and his brothers were to work as migrant farm labor for his uncle Don Byrd's farm in southern Chester County.

My Mother was the youngest of a family of Pennsylvania Quaker descent.  Her Mother died when she wasn't quite two years old.  Both my parents had a hard upbringing.  Neither had an easy childhood.  Both began working before they reached their teenage years.  I was to be no exception.

I came home one day from school and my Mother told me "You're getting a job.  You're going to be a paper boy."  Uh....okay.  What did I know?  We were poor and lived in the poorer section of town.  My father was a long distance truck driver, exempted from serving in the military because of his three sons being born in 1941, 1943 and 1944.  Mom, at that time, was a stay-at-home Mom with her hands full taking care of three rambunctious boys.  Any woman knows that three sons can be a handful.  My brothers and I were no exception.  We kept her busy. 

I wasn't asked if I wanted a job, I was told.  I didn't even think to protest.  What I did know was that I wasn't getting an allowance like most of my classmates and that my brothers and I didn't wear shoes during the summer months off from school because it was too expensive.  I would be earning MONEY.  I knew that.  Up until this time I earned a a nickel here and there running errands to the grocery store for my relatives who lived in the same apartment building we lived in on Washington Avenue in Downingtown.  Once in a great while one of my uncle would give me a whole quarter for running an errand to the grocer store.  Now as a paperboy I would be earning BIG MONEY....up to $5.00 a week!

She told me a Mrs. Lindermann would come over to our second floor apartment at 120 Washington Avenue to explain to me what I had to do.  Mrs. Lindermann arrived on a hot and humid August night (no air conditioning in the Fifties - we didn't notice).  She told me that I would pick up my newspapers (The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin) at the Sam Charles News stand, which was located on Lancaster Avenue, the main road through Downingtown.  This was only a few blocks away from where we lived in the center of Downingtown.  I would also be deli-vering a few copies of the local newspaper but the bulk of my deliveries would be the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, about 60 copies.  I would pick up these papers after school. 

My Mom, Mrs. Lindermann and my brother Isaac looks on as Mrs. Lindermann scoops up my weekly take - leftover newspapers on chair to left - 1954

She gave me a small, black, hand-size three ring binder.  This notebook contained a monthly grid of individual sheets of the customers I was to deliver the newspapers too.  Each sheet had the customers' address and which paper was to be delivered to them.  There was also an amount listing what I was to collect from the customer once a week.  She turned over this notebook of customers' names and addresses to me.  At ten years old I had my first Real Job.  I now had responsibility.  I felt grown up.  It felt good. 

I was a paperboy from third grade until I entered ninth grade, from ten years old to fifteen years old.  Believe it or not the main reason I quit the paperboy job was that I thought I was too big to ride a bicycle.  Remember, back in the Fifties only kids rode bicycles. 

I can honestly say from my vantage point now, that paperboy job was the best job I ever had in my life.  The best.  I was on my own, I was out in the fresh air, I got to meet and interact with people (which I love and do to this day as I do at my part-time job as a hotel front desk clerk), and I made money.  If there was any downside at all (and I didn't and never did consider it a downside) was that I didn't have time for the extra-circular activities at school.  While the rest of my classmates were spending their allowances and getting into trouble or just being bored, I had something to do after school, deliver papers.  And oh the experiences I had delivering those newspapers, something which I will write about in future blogs. 

I don't have any pictures of me delivering papers but I do have a picture of me on my bike that I delivered newspapers.  My trusty, dependable bike that got me through many a day; hot, cold, windy, snow, rain. 

I am so thankful that my Mother gave me this lesson early in my life to teach me responsibility.  She is gone now but her lesson has stayed with me for the past sixty years.  I am working now, albeit part-time.  I will work until I can no longer function either mentally or physically.  I know of no other  way.  Mom trained me well. 

Thank you Mom, wherever you are.  I have no doubt she will have a job waiting for me when we meet again in Heaven.

Mom and me Mineral Springs, PA - 1942 - she already had plans for me to go to work

Girard Bank

Girard Bank
Broad and Chesnut Streets
Philadelphia, PA

 Some dates in the past always trigger memories.  Today, March 1st is one of those days. Forty six years ago today I began working at Girard Bank in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.


Ever since I can remember, I wanted to work at a bank.  I grew up in a small town (Downingtown, PA) and always dreamed of someday working at the Downingtown National Bank.  However, when I graduated from high school they wouldn't even let me in the door.  I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.  No 'Tiptons' here please.  Ironically, many years later I would work at Downingtown National Bank but that is a story for another whole blog posting.


Today I want to briefly mark my anniversary of one of the most life changing times of my life, and that was the day I began work at THEE bank in Philadelphia, Girard Bank.  

The lobby of Girard Bank

I worked at Girard Bank for twenty-two years until Mellon Bank took over in 1982.  I lasted another four years after Mellon "merged" with Girard Bank (the Harvard Business Review said "Mellon Bank took 'merged' with Girard bank with all the grace of Russian troops entering a Polish village at the end of World War II" - some quotes you never forget.)

Me in banker drag at my desk as manager - yes, my plants

I had quite the plant collection.  At one time I had over a hundred plants I was taking care of on the floor.

Me transplanting plants on company time

I left Girard Bank, then Mellon Bank on December 1st 1986 and went up Broad Street to work at the Fidelity Bank.  Again, a story for another blog posting.

The Trust Remittance Unit - where I started my job

Today I'm taking a trip down Memory Lane again.  


My first job was in the Trust Department as a remittance clerk.  I eventually worked my way up to manager of the Trust Information Unit which was a combination of five different operations units.

Calculating remittance payments in the day before digital calculators

Below are some pictures that I took that bring back fond memories.  Yes, these days were some of the best of my life.  And I am happy to say, I still remain friends with my former boss (Bill P.) and one of my former co-workers (Penney P.)  Unfortunately, so many others have passed on but I will always have them in my memory.  

When I 'retired' I had a wonderful sendoff luncheon at the Bellevue Stratford.  All my friends were there.  I will always remember them and these times as some of the best of my adult life.  I had the best boss (Bill B) that one could want.  I was very lucky.

That's me on the left with the serious mien with my fellow managers and supervisors.  All great folks!  This was when I was 'somebody.'

Thus it is with some irony today that I inform you that the grand bank where I used to work at in center city Philadelphia is now a (are you sitting down?)...HOTEL!  That's right, Mellon Bank sold off the original Dome Building where Stephen Girard started his bank and the building was converted into the Ritz-Carlton Hotel.  The irony is that I work at a hotel now, a high end hotel in downtown Lewes, DE.  Pure coincidence.  

My goal this year is to book a stay at my former place of employment, now the Ritz-Carlton Hotel...if I can afford it.

The Ritz-Carlton Hotel

Philadelphia, PA

More Snow!

More Snow!




Yes, more snow. Can you believe it? Can I believe it? I am so over all this snow.



The good news is that even though the winds are blowing like a blizzard (up to 50 mph), the snow is light. Unlike the back to back blizzards we had a couple of weeks ago, this snow is more like our usual snow down here on the southern Delmarva peninsula which just a dusting. At the most an inch or two that is gone the next day.



I’ve already made my “milk and bread” run earlier this week so I have nowhere to go today. No need to panic. I do have a slight concern about the power going out because of the high winds but so far I’ve been lucky this winter and having lost power once. Now that I said that watch me lose power.



Next week I began working my regular schedule at the hotel in Lewes. I’ll work Mondays and Thursdays, the 2nd shift (3 pm to 11 pm.) I’m refreshed and ready to go back to work after two months off from work. I’m looking forward to seeing my friends at work and meeting old and new guests to the hotel. I am so ready for winter to end and the new season to begin.



Next Tuesday a friend and I are taking a senior citizen (that’s right, I am a senior citizen now, no getting around that) bus to the Philadelphia Flower Show. I’m looking forward to that trip. We go up on a big, comfortable bus with huge windows. I used to live and work in center city Philadelphia many years. I have many fond memories of my years in Philadelphia. I like to go back occasionally and renew those old memories. The flower show is secondary to the visit to Philadelphia. I’m also going to have lunch with a longtime friend and former co-worker at one of our old gay hangouts, Woody’s. I am very much looking forward to that reunion.



But for today, I’m just hanging out here at the home base. I’ll do some more organizing of my digital photos. Maybe I’ll catch up on my e-mail, which I seem to be perpetually behind. Of course, after lunch I’ll take my daily nap. Then it will be time for my afternoon shows and another Netflix movie tonight. Last night I saw “Michael Clayton.” Oh how I like a good movie and “Michael Clayton” was good. On tap tonight is “The Brave One” with Jodie Foster.



I’ve got my milk and I’ve got my bread. I’m ready to hunker out yet another snowstorm. Bring it on!

Getting the Balance Back

Yesterday I returned to work to my job as a front desk clerk at the hotel.








Driving down New Road into downtown Lewes I was reminded of the back to back blizzards of last week by the six foot high piles of snow along the road.







After parking in the hotel parking lot and walking around the side of the building I hear someone yell “Ron!” from behind me. I turned around and it was the hotel maintenance man. With a big smile he said “Hey! We missed you!” Well, THAT was good to hear. I was glad to be back to work.  I missed them too.





Walking through the front lobby I was again reminded of how much I like working at this hotel. It has a “homey” feel to it. But then I’ve almost always felt that way about any place where I have worked. I always try to make my workplace personal and not just someplace where I work. I believe this attitude is essential for a successful performance of a job, especially in the hospitality industry. Of course it also helps that I work in the top boutique hotel in Sussex County.







As I walked to the front desk my manager said “How you?” The daytime front desk clerk greeted me and the sales director came out and said “Ron, I really missed you!” and gave me a big hug. Hey, it’s nice to be missed. I smile as I write this.







I clocked in and went out to the front desk to get caught up on the latest developments.







The sales director told me that she gave her notice and will be leaving her employment at hotel on March 5th. I felt bad about that because I’ve always enjoyed working with her. We’re around the same age and from the same general area of Pennsylvania so we had a lot in common. She has a naturally happy, upbeat personality which made the workplace a fun place to be. I like working with people who make work an adventure rather than a tedious task to be performed just to collect a paycheck. They bring out the best in me.







Because she is leaving and finding her replacement and training them will take about a month, I was asked if I could work my regular schedule in March (two nights a week.) I answered in the affirmative. It will be good to get back on my “regular schedule” and get the balance back in my life.







I’ve enjoyed the past two months off but I find that I need to have a reason to get out and interact with the public on a professional basis. I still have a need to contribute my personal skills to validate my worth as a constructive member of society. I know it sounds corny but this is the way I was raised. Like my good friends Larry and Bill from my school days, we all work and will continue to work until we no longer have the physical or mental capacity to do so. We are true Children of the Fifties. Our Moms didn’t raise us to be couch potatoes. Whether it is volunteering our time to a worthy cause like the ASPCA or using our skills on a Home Owners Association board, most of the members of my generation (the one right before the Baby Boom Generation) are still working even in our late 60's.







Looking outside the sun seems to shine a little brighter today. As Mr. Rogers (one of our favorites) always used to say: “It’s a good day in the neighborhood.”



Which reminds me, here is one of the many reasons I liked Mr. Rogers:



Mister Rogers seems to have been almost exactly the same off-screen as he was onscreen. As an ordained Presbyterian minister, and a man of tremendous faith, Mister Rogers preached tolerance first. Whenever he was asked to castigate non-Christians or gays for their differing beliefs, he would instead face them and say, with sincerity, “God loves you just the way you are.” Often this provoked ire from fundamentalists.




Well said Mr. Rogers, well said.



I remember seven years ago (March 2003) when I was working in the bond unit at a bank in Downingtown, Pennsylvania. I received a notice of a bond redemption request from the executors of the estate of a "Fred M. Rogers." The address on the bond was a Pittsburgh address. Could it be? I check and yes, it was the same "Mr. Rogers" of "Mr. Roger's Neighborhood." Sadness immediately washed over my heart like a cloud passing across the face of the sun. Yet another chapter of my life had come to an end. I felt a connection, however small, to this special man by putting through the computer entries that redeemed his municipal bond.



Although I am not religious in the man made definition of religion I do agree with Mr. Rogers in his statement: "God loves you just the way you are."

The Long Road Back

Today I got a call from my manager at the hotel. He asked if I could work tomorrow night. Could I? Of course!




Yesterday he called and asked if I could work for a few nights in April. Absolutely!



I hope the economy has begun to recover enough that we can all begin the long road back (pictured is Oyster Rocks Road leading to the Broadkill River – I took it this morning.) I have never experienced in my lifetime such a bad economy that affected so many people.



I have lived through recessions before but they never affected me. I always had a good paying job at the bank. But, I like many others of my generation were “outsourced”, “right-sized”, and “job eliminated” before we could reach our normal retirement. I was one of the fortunate few because I was able to make lateral moves throughout the rest of my career. Others, of course, were not so fortunate.



I don’t know of one person in my peer group who was able to reach normal retirement age at their long term job. Not one person. That’s saying something.



I thought I had dodge a bullet but the massive transfer of wealth that the crooks on Wall Street have been perpetuating on the American public since Reagan fired all those air traffic controllers finally caught me in their snare. I couldn’t sell my house after I had already contracted to buy another house here in Delaware. I finally did manage to sell my house but at a price much lower (28%) than I had asked. Because I didn’t sell my house for near what I had planned, I was forced to take on a mortgage on my present house. That wasn’t in my retirement plans.



Again, I am fortunate that I am able to pay for this mortgage unlike many others who were literally left out in the cold. I could pay the mortgage but didn’t leave much wiggle room in my retirement income for anything else. In fact, some months I come up short like the time I had to have car repairs.



Understandably I was quite concerned when our former president began a push to privatize Social Security, thus completing the Right Wing’s agenda of totally wiping out the middle class for their rich benefactors. The Bush Regime almost got my veteran’s benefits cut off. Little wonder that I changed my registration from being a lifetime Republican to a newly radicalized Democrat.



I have to stop myself because I feel myself going into a political rant. But I do want to say that I hope to God (and I’m not religious) that the Democrats get a pair and stand up to the Party of No who are trying to destroy Obama and the country by not supporting ANYTHING Obama proposes, including job creation.



This country needs jobs. The useless Republicans (most of whom are unpatriotic in my view because of their obstructionist policies) and the spineless Democrats need to stop their games and work together to create jobs for the great middle class of this country. I know my pleas are like pissing in the wind but there, I’ve said it.



Mark Twain was right when he said:

 “Suppose you were an idiot and suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.”

I’m glad I’m going back to work.

Ten Bad Things About Being Laid Off

As promised in my previous blog, listed below are the ten bad things about not working (in no particular order):




1) Decreased cash flow, i.e.; less money

2) No money

3) No pay

4) No income

5) No cash



Okay, the first five are the same. I made my point. Talk about beating a dead horse…………



6) No mental stimulation

7) No reason to get up in the morning

8) No one to bore with my stories (something us old folk tend to do)

9) Fall behind on workplace gossip

10) Gain weight because now food is my only solace, company and friend



Ironically, shortly after I posted my blog about ten good reasons for not working, manager called and asked if I would be able to work in April.



Would I? YES!

January 1, 2010

Today is the first day of the New Year 2010. Doesn’t that have a nice sound?




Do we pronounce the New Year “twenty ten?” Or do we pronounce it “two oh one oh?” I prefer “twenty ten.” That has a nice ring to it.



Last night I got in from work at the hotel at 11:20 pm. That was enough time to change, shower and have a bedtime snack while I watched the New Year rung in on CNN by that sadly unfunny duo of Kathy Griffin and Anderson Cooper.



I, like many of my fellow citizens will be facing unemployment at the beginning of the new decade. I’m working today but for the rest of the month I’m not on the work schedule at the hotel. I probably won’t be on the work schedule for February either. Maybe even into March. Perhaps the warm weather will bring a change in hotel occupancy.



Several of my friends have also seen their hours of work reduced. I don’t know of anybody who has been untouched by this poor economy. No doubt about it, this is an equal opportunity recession.



Because all of our incomes will be down this year, it will require us to review our priorities and decide what we can do without this year. What we do without will have repercussions throughout the economy. Because I decide to eat out less will mean the restaurants I frequent will earn less money and will require them to cut back on their staff and hours. It is a vicious, cruel cycle.



I for one am going to use this extra time that I will now have and turn it into an opportunity. First thing I’m going to do (I’ve already started) is finish unpacking the remaining boxes from my move to Delaware three years ago (November 2006.)



Then I’m going to go through those boxes and other items and decide what I can live without and either drop those items off at the local thrift store or sell them on EBay (I can use the money.)



Secondly I’m going to cedar line my two walk in closets in my bedroom. They are “his and hers” closets but since there is only me in my bedroom, they’re my “his and his” closets.



Third, I’m going to finish scanning all my old prints of photographs into my computer to share them with friends and family.



Fourth, I’m going to jump in again and update my family genealogy records. I’m 68 years old now. Each year goes by faster and faster and before I know it I will either check out or be too old and infirm to even get those records together. Of course I am concerned what will happen to my records (and photos) when I’m gone but there isn’t much I can do about that now. None of my relatives seem to be interested or have the time or energy to continue my work. It does concern me but I can’t worry about it.



So, all told. I do have a plan that I feel good about. Actually, for the first time in years I feel very optimistic. The past decade was a horrible decade for me and our country. Maybe it was because we didn’t have a good way to pronounce the years. Two zero zero nine doesn’t have the same ring as twenty ten. Yes, I think it will be a very good year.  Hello twenty ten. 

Thoughts on a Rainy Thursday

As the rain and wind swirl around outside the six foot long windows of my home office, I am reminded again of how fortunate I am to live in my warm and cozy home here two miles from the Delaware Bay.


Yesterday my friends Bob and Jim stopped over in the wind and rain to drop off two of Jim's old computers. Jim wants Bill to destroy the hard drive on his computers before he recycles them into the Computer Graveyard up in the sky. They both stayed awhile for a visit in the sun room while the rain and wind continued its incessant attack on the house.  We discussed some of the weighty issues of the day and then they were on their way to rescue their friend Bart's washing machine.  A Mission of Mercy.

My friend The Cajun had invited me out for my birthday dinner at MIXX in Rehoboth Beach last night. I called him and asked for a rain check. I don't like to travel at night and I especially don't like to travel at night on a rain slicked highway reflecting headlights of oncoming traffic. I might as well be traveling blindfolded.

This afternoon I return to work for the first time since my conversation with my manager and the owner of the hotel where I work part-time. My job was posted in the local newspaper. I requested a meeting to ascertain the status of my job. I was assured that I wasn't being replaced but that all options were open. I called the hotel yesterday to confirm the time and was surprised to find a new front desk clerk answered the phone. I guess its audition time. Nothing surprises me now.

While I was typing the above, on the TV behind me there was a short clip of that woman whose face was ripped off by the crazed pet chimpanzee. She is appearing on Oprah today. This is a reminder to me that no matter what problems that I have they pale in comparison to other's problems. I am again reminded of that old quote:

"I had no shoes and I complained until I met a man who had no feet."

No complaints from this quarter on this day of wind and rain.

Census Training - The Aftermath

Three days after my last day as an address canvasser for the U.S. Census Bureau I’m finally getting back on track. I’m writing this blog after just having read a very critical comment to my blog posting “Census Training Day Five – I Quit.” I’m not posting the text of the comment because it was full of incorrect assumptions and vitriol but I did want to address my reasons for quitting again. The writer called me a “lazy whiner who wasted the government’s money...."The writer is also an address canvasser and obviously the job is a good fit for him/her. I’m happy for them. It wasn’t a “good fit” for me and I decided to quit before I wasted my time and the government’s time. When I gave my resignation I suggested that they should give the job to someone who needs the job. I don’t need it. I thought it would be good fit for me because I like to get out and drive about. I enjoy immensely finding cemeteries and taking pictures and posting them to FAG (Find a Grave.) That aspect about the job is what appealed to me. However, that I didn’t account for were the more immediate problems like:

1) Parking
2) Safety
3) Weather conditions
4) Training

5) Bathroom needs

These are not problems I encountered with FAG. If the weather was bad, I didn't go to cemeteries. I didn't have to worry about my safety at cemeteries unless the dead decided to rise. Also, parking is never a problem at cemeteries. And, I have yet to encounter a dog in a cemetery. (note: this is another "tongue in cheek" reference in case "Census Taker" is reading this blog.)

While I’m aware these aren’t problems for some others, they are for me. I didn’t receive sufficient training. The trainer favored her group over our group. Our first day out in the field, we were on our own because the assistant crew leader quit (because she didn’t have an HHC was too stressed out to train – is she a “whiner” too?) The first day out in the field on my own was my first learning experience. Perhaps if I had an experienced person with me for an hour or two it would have made the difference. But, that didn’t happen. I'm not a dummy but I do need a basic run through in the field. It was promised to us but it didn't happen.

I respect the Census workers who are address canvassers, trainers, crew leaders and assistent crew leaders. In fact I have a renewed respect for the men and women who are our postal carriers. At work yesterday at the hotel, with all the wind and rain outside, our mailman came in to drop off our mail. I looked at this wind blown and rain soaked mailman and now I realize what he has to go through everyday. I have a new appreciation for him and his daily rounds in "rain, snow, wind, and sleet."

The following is a portion of the comment left on my blog who accuses me of being a “whiner.”

I could have misread you, but my impression of you from this post was, "what a lazy whiner". You should have known the job was not a "good fit" before you wasted a week of time and $16 an hour of taxpayers money. What did you think it would be like walking door to door? I wondered what your work ethic was and if you felt bothered when a person came into your hotel office and made you have to look up from the TV or your paper :) Again, apologies since you probably are not that guy, but from just this article, that's was my initial take.

To Census Taker, I accept your apologies because I am not the person who you are referring to when you say: “I wondered what your work ethic was and if you felt bothered when a person came into your hotel office and made you have to look up from the TV or your paper."

You are wrong in your assumption that I am the type of person you referred to in a hotel office. I am the ONLY person ever to win the President’s Guest Service Award for the Hampton Inn in Exton, PA. My job at the hotel is a good fit for my personality and skills. Just because I don’t do as well in another area of the job market doesn’t mean that I’m a “lazy whiner.” I write my blog with complete honesty. If I attempted a job as a brick layer, I would quit too because that isn’t a job suited to my personality or skills. That doesn’t mean I’m a “lazy whiner.” Just as I wouldn’t call you a “lazy whiner” if you quit a hotel front desk job from where you have to be everything from a restaurant reviewer, give driving directions for a 150 miles radius from the hotel location, do hotel laundry and kitchen chores, set up breakfast, help set up special events, check in and check out guests all the while maintaining a happy disposition no matter how tired your are or what is going on in your own life, and work shifts from 3 PM to 11 PM and come in the next day and work 7 AM t0 3 PM all the while staying fresh and new to make the guests’ stay at the hotel a pleasant experience.

Census Taker states:

My first day out I did over 100 map spots. I had a tough area that had been developed, abandoned, and then picked up again. The addresses were listed by where they 'thought' things should be based on computer mailing records, not on the ground observation; that's why they need us! I had to move apartments from one block to another and add and change roads that did not get developed according to the original plan. It made it more fun and challenging. Most blocks are much easier than that and "boring" as you say in that I am just validating an address and entering a map spot.

I commend you for completed for a job well done. You are the type of person who should be working as an address canvasser for the Census Bureau. You find the challenge as I did. However, I don’t understand why you thought I said it was “boring.” I didn’t say that. If you got that message from my blog post then I didn’t write clearly. I didn’t consider anything about the address canvassing job boring. In fact, I thought the job would be quite interesting. That’s why I applied for the job. Not to repeat myself, what I didn’t take into consideration was juggling both jobs and the lack of training.

Census Taker further states:

I don't find the work boring, thought I am really just moonlighting because I wanted to be out in the beautiful spring weather and meet people. I think I brighten their day. I don't go in with fear and I don't come across as a salesmen or "Jehovah's Witness". The few people who look like they are going to stare me off their property are quickly smiling and wanting to chat when I give them my smile, my opening line, and my sense of humor. So you are right in that you definitely needed a different attitude for the job and the government needs a lot more forward thinkers and a lot less "typical government employees" that everyone complains about.

Dear Census Taker, obviously you misunderstood that I my comment was tongue in cheek (look up this term in Google if you don’t understand what it was) that I went in with fear and coming across as a salesman or Jehovah’s Witness. The people that I did encounter on my brief foray were friendly and helpful. I have no complaint with them. Perhaps if I didn’t have my job at the hotel, I would have toughed it out on the training part and stayed with the job. When I applied for the Census job my hours at the hotel were cut back to one day a week. Once I began training, the hotel called and increased my hours. I felt obligated to go through with giving the Census job 40 hours a week. When I realized how difficult it was going to be to juggle the two jobs in addition to dealing with the elements, I decided to resign the Census job.

I’m sorry that my blog posting was so poorly written that it came across as a post of a “lazy whiner” who epitomized all the worst stereotypes of government workers. I meant in no way to disparage the individuals who are working as address canvassers for the U.S. Census. I have a great deal of respect for them because this is a hard job (as our regional leader reminded us every day.) The message I attempted to convey with my blog post was that this job wasn’t a “good fit” for me (and hopefully with some humor.) The people who are doing this job should be like you, committed, hardworking, and willing to take on the challenge of this very important job. However, I don't see the purpose in disparaging me by calling me a "lazy whiner" because I posted a blog stating that the Census job wasn't one for me. Please take time to explain to me what you hoped to accomplish by calling me a "lazy whiner." You seem to have a deep seated anger over some issue. Maybe you should address that problem instead of making sweeping assumptions about someone you don't know.

Earlier today I received an e-mail from a friend of mine who took the Census job test as a result of me taking the test. She told me today she was asked to attend training. She said she was having second thoughts now because of the warning about taking pepper spray with her. She has a legitimate concern. However, I urged her to take the training and see for herself if the job is a “good fit” for her. I certainly am not discouraging anyone from taking this job. Last I heard, this was still a free country and we have the freedom to chose. Just because I quit a job that I didn’t feel I could give my all I don’t think that warrants calling me a “lazy whiner.” As my Mother always said, someone who calls someone else names says more about the name caller than it does about the person who is being called the name.

To the commenter of my blog who called me a “lazy whiner”, I wish you much success on your job as address canvasser. Remember what our regional director promised: if you’re good enough you’ll sent to Newark to help them with their address canvassing. Just make sure you take your pepper spray.

Census Training - Day Five - I Quit

Yes, you read it right. I quit my Census job today. Today started out as another gray, dreary, rainy day. This was the day of the Big Test. I was first to arrive at our classroom meeting place at the Lighthouse Church outside of Laurel Delaware. Shortly after I parked my car, my crew leader arrived. She unloaded boxes of material from the back of her SUV. More Census trainees arrived. Some stopped to talk to our crew leader before going into the building to prepare for the qualification test. The test would be 30 questions and we would have an hour to complete it. We would have to score 70% or better to get our wings to go out in the field. You know the old saying “be careful what you wish for?” Stay tuned.

Ten o’clock rolls around. We take the test. As we finish we hand our papers to one of the crew leader’s assistants who take the finished test papers back to be graded by the crew leaders. Once they are graded will call us back one at a time to tell us if we passed and what our assignment will be. My turn came and I was called back. My crew leader told me I scored 97 on the test. I passed! Then I got my assignment. She said I could work on it today or over the weekend, whatever works best for me. I decided to work on it this afternoon.

I shot on home for a quick lunch. I packed up all my material and head out to Hunter’s Mill, a housing development about five miles from where I live. Earlier in the day it had rained, hard at times. The sun was out when I left home for Hunter’s Mill. However, the wind was gusting up to 30 miles per hour. Big puffy clouds filled the sky. I had no trouble finding Hunter’s Mill. However, as I drove into the development I saw the first problem. Where am I going to park? I’m not comfortable pulling off to the side of the road. I couldn’t pull in a private driveway. Hmmmmmm. So, I drive around the development, looking for my starting point that my HHC indicated. I turned on the GPS. I was out of the area. Back around the development I drive a few more times. Still can’t hone in with the GPS. Then I notice another problem, the houses don’t run in consecutive order. Another problem, some of the houses don’t have numbers on them. But then I remind myself, that what they’re paying me for, to update the addresses to census forms can be sent to the correct addresses where people live.

Okay…………..I’m still driving around looking for a place to park. I finally find a cul de sac where I’m not too obtrusive. No one is around. A few houses up the street a dad and his teenage son were building a railing on their deck. They shot a few glances my way that weren’t exactly “Hey there! Welcome to the neighborhood” looks. This was a nice neighborhood and it was quite obvious that I was the Strange Person in the Neighborhood. I could feel several sets of eyes looking at me from behind silent picture windows of some of the other homes in the neighborhood. I have my Census bag on my shoulder and my Census badge blowing around my neck in the 30 mph gusts of wind. It was an unusually warm afternoon and I was starting to sweat.

I get out my HHC (hand held computer) and try to see where I am by looking at my GPS indicator. The bright sun was making it hard for me to read my HHC. The wind is causing my badge to slap me in the face. I’m trying to hang on to my Colorado Rockies cap. This isn’t going good. The first house I see isn’t on my HHC. This must be a new house. I see someone out front watering his lawn. I got to introduce myself by walking over to him then I remember, we’re not to walk on lawns. So I look for the cement walkway to approach the homeowner. He’s not looking happy. “Who is this nut?” he’s probably thinking. Yesterday we were mistaken for Jevohah’s Witnesses. Probably because of the bag we’re carrying over our shoulder. He’s also probably not happy seeing me take the long way around to circle into him. All he wants to do is water his lawn. My procedure is that I identify myself (“I’m Ronald Tipton with the U.S. Census Bureau and I am verifying your address for the 2010 Census”) and then I hand him a Privacy Notice. I had him the notice and I notice that his hand is holding a hose that has water running out of it. Ooops. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I asked him how long his house had been there. He said it was built in 2006 (same as my house, but that’s another whole story). Thus, it wouldn’t be on my HHC because it only contains information from the 2000 Census. This is a New House. I have to add it to my HHC.

Here we go. My next step is to do an ADD. I enter the information on my HHC. House number, street, town/city and zip code. Then I attempt to do a Map Spot which is to have the HHC GPS indicated where the house is on the map. My GPS had gone. Where, I do not know. It’s not there anymore. Oh great. Now I do a manual Map Spot. I can do that but I don’t know where to put it on the map. My map is either 5 feet out or 5,000 feet out. No in between. I think you can see how this is going. I discovered I was out of my range. In other words, I was in the wrong assignment area. Back to Go.

I find another house and I am in my assignment area. I bring up the GPS again and nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. While standing in front of the door of the Housing Unit, I see an elderly man looking at me on the other side of the glass storm door. He’s looking at me like I’m a Jevohah Witness. Those damn bags. I go to the door and to introduce myself. He opens the door and a dog scoots out. All five pounds of his furry self. My first dog! We were warned about “My dog doesn’t bite.” What did the elderly gentleman say? He didn’t say “My dog won first place at the Westminster Kennel Show.” He said……are you ready?........he said (I swear to God) “My dog doesn’t bite.” Oh Hallelujah! I think that was the grape that caused the camel’s back to sag. My first open door and I get a “My dog doesn’t bit” scooting out to greet me. Actually, this dog didn’t bite. She was just a little big of fur (some Yorkie mix) who actually seemed happy to see the big old strange man at her door with the Jehovah Witness should bag at her front door. I wasn’t happy. In fact, I was finished. That was it. This isn’t the job for me. I admit defeat. I go down in a blazing fireball of flames.

What in the world was I doing out here on this unusually warm, windy spring day when I could be home doing one of the following:

1. Taking a nap
2. Working in my garden
3. Writing my daily blog
4. Updating my genealogy records
5. Aggravating Bill

I hate to admit defeat but I just didn’t see this job fitting in with my lifestyle (such as it is.) I love my hotel job. I know others who would hate such a job. Too boring they say. Not to me, I never know what’s coming through that door at the hotel. I’m always up for the challenge. I like the challenge of making people happy. I didn’t see that in this job of canvassing neighborhoods, verifying addresses. I’m traipsing around in front of people’s houses, bothering them. That’s not me. I want to make people smile, not frown and fear that I’m going to hand them a Watchtower religious pamphletgiving them the opportunity to be one of the 144,000 Chosen. Then there are the other problems of where to park my car, and where was my GPS signal? That was so frustrating. I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t Map Spot the house to verify the address on my HHC. At the hotel I have no problem “Map Spotting” my guests right into there room and I leave them smiling. And I didn't even get into the problem of going to the bathroom. How wold that be handled? I can hold it but not for hours on end. Wearing a giant astronaut diaper was out of the question. Maybe a mayonaisse jar. Nah, wouldn't work either. I was advised to try local libararies and fast food joints. Maybe McDonalds is good for something after all, a pee break.

No, address canvassing for the Census Bureau isn’t Ron. Sometimes you just have to admit defeat. Maybe defeat is too strong a word. A more accurate description would be that the job wasn’t a “good fit.” I remember years ago after I got out of the Army, I applied to Lukens Steel for a job. Back in the small town where I came from, most guys who didn’t go to college worked for the local steel company. I was no exception. Except that I wanted a job in the office but this was back in the early Sixties when sexism was still rampant and Political Correctness hadn’t been discovered yet. Office jobs that I wanted were listed under the “Female” section of the help wanted ads in the local newspaper. So, I dutifully applied for a job at Lukens. I passed the test and physical (had to parade around nude – all of us at once – all ages – something wrong with that.) I was hired as a crane operator. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the steel industry that is a job in which you’re in a small enclosed cage on tracks high above the factory work floor. The crane operator operates a giant magnet to pick up metal sometimes weighing thousands of pounds and move it around to different places on the work floor below.

Right away I saw a couple of problems with this job. First, was the cage air conditioned (it was not.) Second, there are men milling about the floor down below me, what happens if I make a mistake and drop a couple of tons of steel on someone’s head? Then there were the other problems like when and where to I potty? And I didn’t even get into how dirty my hands were going to get operating those greasy levers. I could see a lot of broken fingernails in my future. So, even after I was hired as a crane operator, I quite before I started. At lest today, I gave this job a couple of hours. But I could tell, this wasn’t the job for me, wandering around in front of strange people’s houses looking for my GPS. “Hey you! Whaddya doing out there?” Me……”I’m looking for my GPS signal.” Uh huh. Time to end this puppy’s misery.

I get home and I call my crew leader immediately. I inform her of my decision. She expresses regrets (a very nice lady by the way) but says she understands. I feel bad because they went to all the trouble to train me and I’m bailing. But, it was either now or later. I could see it coming. This job needs to go to someone younger and more energetic and less sensitive than writer of this blog. The unemployment figures go up everyday. I have a comfortable retirement and a lovely part-time job that I enjoy immensely. It was time to turn in my HHC. My crew leader told me to call her assistant and he would arrange to pick up my material. I called him and told him I would deliver it to him. Bill drove me to the assistant’s house and I delivered all my Census training paraphernalia and my HHC to the assistant. I officially resigned my job as a Census Worker. The resignation was probably necessary because I did take an oath of office when I was hired. I'm still feeling guilty that government funds were spent to train me and I didn’t follow through with the job.

It was better to quit now than later, when I would be totally frazzled and shell shocked. As the old saying goes, “You have to know when to play them and you have to know when to fold.” (Kenny Rogers?) I folded today. But, life goes on. I have a new appreciation for my hotel job. Bill is ecstatic that I will be home more. After 45 years, he knows me better than I know myself. He told me that he knew I wouldn’t like the job. Oh he does know me.

I go to work tomorrow at 7 am. Tomorrow night I think I’ll take in a movie from one of my Net Flix rentals (“Dan in Real Life”.) Sunday looks like dinner with friends at Stoney Lonen. Monday I work again at the hotel. Tuesday I take my car down to The Garage to get the rear window shield wiper working. Ah yes, back to the regular routine.