Rainy Saturday

If there was ever a day that I was glad I didn’t continue with my address canvasser job for the Census Bureau, it was this morning. I awoke with a deep congestion in my chest and aching from bone to bone. I could hear the steady downpour of rain from outside my bedroom windows. My voice is little more than a croak. Thank goodness that I don’t have to work at the hotel this weekend. Thank God I don’t have to go to work this morning verifying addresses for the Census Bureau. My sympathies go to those Census Bureau workers who are going out today to verify addresses. God bless them.

One of the biggest benefits of being retired is the freedom to decide to do with my day. Today is such a day. I don’t have to go to work at the hotel until next Friday, at which time I will work a four day marathon. I will be filling in for the full time front desk clerk who is going on vacation. But until next Friday I have nothing on my schedule except a dental appointment in Dover on Monday. I’m getting an upper partial dental plate and it is in. It will probably take several visits to get the fitting just right. Hopefully, I won’t have as much problem as my friend Diane did with her partial. Wish me luck Diane!

Tomorrow even I am meeting friends at the Purple Parrot in Rehoboth Beach for our weekly get together. That is if it is not raining. The days are longer (which I love) but I still don’t like to travel in the rain, in the daytime or nighttime. There probably won’t be too many more of these Sunday night gatherings anyway as the tourist season heats up. The traffic, people and congestion is just too much to have a pleasant evening with friends. No complaints about the seasonal tourists though, we need there business to keep our economy going here in Lower Slower.

This morning I received an interesting comment on my "Census Job Day Five - I Quit" blog. The following is the comment that “Anonymous” left:

"Guess some people get tired of your long-winded posts; the infinite details that are truly boring, and the fact you document every aspect of your life.Maybe you could post more interesting discussions that invite people to participate, rather than to read about your life that is truly focused on yourself in a way that is consistently way too verbose, and tiring to read."

Guilty as charged. My post are detailed. I do that on purpose. That is my style. Yes, I do try to document aspects of my life. Guilty again. In fact, that is the purpose of my blog. It is called a BLOG. That’s short for Weblog. It is a personal journal. It is MY personal journal

“Anonymous” sates “the infinite details that are truly boring….” Perhaps the details are truly boring to him/her. So what? Why read my blog then?

“Anonymous” suggests “Maybe you could post more interesting discussions that invite people to participate, rather than to read about your life that is truly focused on yourself in a way that is consistently way too verbose, and tiring to read.”

I love this comment. This stranger is telling me to post a discussion forum. What? There are thousands if not millions of blogs of this ilk. When I originally started a blog I had one like that. It attracted all kinds of unpleasant and negative people like “Anonymous” who presume to tell me how to write and lead my life. I discontinued that blog because it did nothing but drag me down to the same depths where people like “Anonymous” live. No, that was not a good thing. That isn't where I wanted to go with my blog.

What I love about the Internet and blogs is the freedom to write whatever I want to write about without seeking the approval of people like “Anonymous.” Yes, my blog is about me and I will continue to write in detail about every aspect of my life. I have to admit I do find it fascinating that some people like “Anonymous” feel the necessity to try and dictate how I should write my blog. Displays of arrogance like this always amaze me. This to me is perhaps the main problem with human kind today; some people telling other people how to live their lives. They have an innate inability to live and let live. They abhor freedom. They assume they and only they are always right and anyone who has a different viewpoint on life is wrong. They seek to control and when they can't control that which they cannot control, they strike out in fear with insulting and hurtful words. Frankly, I enjoy receiving these kinds of comments. I love pricking at the oblivous pomposity of self-important czars of Internet like this person.

So "Anonymous", back to the details of my life…….no work next week, I may eat a Clementine or two during the week, perhaps bake a German Chocolate cake (which I haven’t done since my father died August 22, 2000 – it was his favorite cake), might do some gardening if the weather is nice, will vacuum clean the house (haven’t done that in about a month – it’s way overdue), will have to update the mailing list for my 50th high school class reunion, will try to come up with a design for the cover of the 50th class reunion booklet, will try to get some more items for the Clear Space Productions Thrift Shop, will update my Facebook account at least three times a day, will check my e-mail also at least three times a day, will try to reduce my backed up mails to zero (lots of luck on that one), will continue to watch two Netflix movies a week, will keep my partner Bill entertained with my witty conversation and repartee ( I posses a smidgen of French in my vocabulary – my 8th grade English teach Miss Hurlock would be proud), will try to update my genealogy records on Ancestry.com and Family Tree Maker, will also try to scan more old photographs into my computer for permanent storage, will try to get rid of the boxes of old correspondence in the dining room, will take more digital pictures of unique scenes as they appear, will continue to work part-time at the hotel and fill in where necessary when other workers have emergencies, will continue to have breakfast every Saturday morning with my partner Bill and our good friend Bob C., will continue to read the four books by Allen Hollingwurst that I got from Amazon.com (Mr. Hollingwurst writes excellent prose), will call my Mom in Pennsylvania to hear her latest complaints about Obama and Nancy Peolosi, will continue to watch my favorite MSNBC programs “Hardball” with Chris Matthews, “Countdown” with Keith Olbermann, and the “Rachel Madow Show”, will continue to have Ralston Purina Corn Chex for breakfast with one ripe banana and 2% low fat milk, will continue to have a scoop of potato salad for lunch with a flour tortilla wrap of roasted red pepper hummus and feta cheese and a side of Pineapple Mango Chipotle Salsa, and for dinner (when I’m not eating out), fresh Romaine Hearts with Parmesan dressing and whatever leftover rotisserie chicken I have on hand that week that I purchased from either the Wal-Mart at Georgetown or Milford. Oh, one more thing. There's a grapefruit in the bottom fruit drawer of the refrigerator that's been there since the Inn Christmas party. I better eat that this week before it turns to mush. Hate to waste food. Waste not, want not I always say.

And that my “Anonymous” friend, are just a few of my favorite things I will be doing all this week. Check my blog daily and I will attempt to fill you in with more detail. Have a wonderful day!

Dandelions

Some consider dandelions a weed. Almost all of the unoccupied lots around here now have a profusion of dandelions blooming in their full butter yellow glory. I have a few of them on the very edge of my highly manicured and treated green carpet lawn. During my walk this afternoon in the development behind where I live, I looked at amazement at the unoccupied lots that are covered in a yellow blanket. The poor dandelion, no one wants it on their lawn. Then I noticed that the unwanted dandelions were wanted by one living form, the humble honey bee. Yes, honey bees were swarming around the thousands of dandelions that are spreading in profusion in the many untreated lots. This is one positive aspect of the current housing market, plenty of dandelions for the local honey bees.

In addition to the sunny mild weather, this was a good day for me. I took my car to The Garage to have another motor installed for the rear window shield wiper. I called the first thing this morning to ask if the part was in. I was asked “Would it be inconvenient for you to bring your car in Monday?” Uh……YES! I’ve been messing with this window shield wiper business all week. I told them that it would be inconvenient for me to wait until Monday. They told me to bring my car in and leave it with them. They would work with it today.

I dropped my car off and Bill and I visited our friend Bob. If you remember Bob, he is my long time friend who is showing signs of early dementia. Or at least it seems that way to me. Bob lives a short distance outside of Georgetown, in the woods on 22 acres of land. We arrive and knock on his door. He greets us and invites us in. This is one of his good days because he is animated. We seat ourselves in his living room. I ask Bob if his partner Jim is sleeping because I didn’t want to wake him up by talking loud (Jim is a nurse who works nights and I do talk loud.) Bob said not to worry because “Jim can sleep through anything.” After about a half an hour into our visit, Jim is heading for the front door. We ask where he is going. Jim says “I’m going to the f—cking Post Office then I’m going to the g..dam f—cking library.” Well……okay. Must be one of Jim’s “multiples” (the way Jim refers to his multiple personalities.) This is nothing different for Jim. He is very possessive of his relationship with his partner Bob and jealous of any attention Bob receives from his other friends. Jim has succeeded in discouraging most of Bob’s friends from visiting him but I refuse to end my friendship with Bob. I’ve known Bob a lot longer than Jim (since 1960 – Jim has been with Bob “only” 23 years.) Jim may be 68 years old but he sometimes acts like a spoiled petulant child. I don’t let his attitude bother me. The way I look at it is the old police attitude towards an accident or crime scene: “Nothing to see here, let’s move on.”

As I was getting ready to leave Bob’s, we hear a knock at Bob's door. It was Scott, a Census Bureau address canvasser. What a small world! Last week I attended class with Scott in Laurel. I had to ask him how he was doing. As expected he told me that address canvassing is indeed very hard work. He said at the end of the day he finds his neck aching. He’s had some problems with insufficient training but he is overcoming it. I told him I respect his work but that I just couldn’t juggle both of my jobs. He said he had worked in the previous census but this one was much harder because of the use of the HHC (hand held computer.) I have to admit I experienced a temporary sense of melancholy when I saw him holding his personal HHC and swiping his fingerprint to sign on. He was having problems signing on (you get three tries then you have to wait fifteen minutes.) I gave him advice on how to swipe his fingerprint and he was successful. I’m glad I could be of help to him.

It was such a beautiful day today that I felt a slight sense of regret that I didn’t stay with the census job but that quickly went away as I gave a deep cough. I’m overcoming a bad cold. I could just imagine if I had stayed with the job with my cold out in the wind and the rain and the cold. I would probably have pneumonia by now. No, it was a good thing (for me) that I left when I did. I wished Scott well and Bill and I were on our way while Scott was off to Map Spot more Housing Units.

This evening I had dinner with a long time friend of mine from Pennsylvania who came down to his Rehoboth Beach house for the Easter holiday. We dined on Eggplant Parmesan at the Rehoboth Dinner. As is usual for folks of our age (we went to school together), we discussed our various medical ailments and treatments. A sure sign we’re officially OLD. The evening ended as I drove up Rt. 1 to my home on the impossibly green acre of manicured, Lawns Unlimited, dandelion free (except for a few dandelions on the edges) lawn. Yes, today was a good day. Even for the dandelions and the honey bees that feasted on their nectar.

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.

Census Training - Day Four

The cloudy, misty, rainy sky that greeted me this morning was not a good sign for the day to come. This was the day our group was to go out in the field. So we wouldn’t be traipsing around the streets of Lewes under sunny skies. Our regional manager already warned us that we would be going out in all kinds of weather and he didn’t want to hear any complaints. He reminded us that he was a retired postal worker. “Rain, shine, sleet or snow; nothing will keep us from our appointed rounds.”

Another bad sign appeared when I turned on my rear window shield wipers as I was traveling down the rain soaked Rt. 9 (Georgetown-Lewes Highway) to my training class in Laurel. The wipers didn’t work. These are the same wipers I just paid over $300 to have a new motor installed because the previous wipers worked intermittently. These wipers didn’t work at all. Okay. Now the first thing I’m thinking “When can I get my car back down to the place who installed the new window shield wiper motor and have them fix it since I’ll be working almost everyday from here to eternity?" (actually to the end of May – the regional manager wants our address canvassing done by Memorial Day.)

I arrive at the church building where our classes are held. We started classes. I soon fell behind in following the instructor (who is working from a different handbook than the class – yes – that is true believe it or not.) Of course Polly Wolly Doodle All Day (Polly, the Old Biddy who has been annoying me all week by her fidgeting, talking and complaining) goes into her routine again. This time I did a major slap down. She got the message.

After a morning of class which I got virtually nothing because I couldn’t follow along with my handbook and HHC (hand held computer), we were told to have lunch and then go to our respective meeting spots in the field. One half of the class was to meet in Georgetown. That wasn’t me. I’m in the Lewes group. We were told to meet at the Lewes Public Library in Lewes. We were also told that our leader was no longer with the Census Bureau. What happened? Our now leaderless group was to meet in Lewes. And, of course, Polly Wolly was in my group.

I get to the library. There is no parking. Nightmare time. I park on a side street. Parallel to me is a huge flatbed truck from a lawn service company. I’m standing outside the library waiting for the rest of the group. I see cars threading the needle passing by my parked car and the lawn service truck. I go to my car and move it to a Staff Parking Only slot in front of the library. I’ll take my chances.

The rest of the group arrives. We gather at a table in the crowded library. We have our reconnoiter meeting. We can’t talk. We have to whisper. This is bizarre. Then we hit the streets. The blind leading the blind. Eight of us ranging in age from 75 (not me) to 23 years old (she’s got an Ipod jammed in her ears.) The 75 year old geezer (not me) looks totally lost. The 23 year old is snapping her fingers to the music (which we can hear by the way) of her Ipod. Polly Wolly is way up ahead (she’s staying away from me after the Morning Slam Down.) Just incredible. Traffic is rolling by. Big construction trucks. Lewes is a noisy town. We’re spilling out on the road trying to get our GPS signals to Map Spot the first structure we encountered. I feel like I’m in a bad dream. I’m about five seconds from just walking off the job. However, I look around and see that no one else is leaving. We’re out on training and there is no one to train us! I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. But, as one of my fellow canvassers said “It is what it is.” Indeed.

We continue down our assigned block. The job was starting to make sense. Maybe we’re learning something after all. We look at our HCCs and see the structure number. We look at the structure in front of us. It matches. Then we Map Spot the Housing Unit (or OLQ – Other Living Quarters) on our HHC (hand held computer.) We’re using a GPS system to Map Spot. Okay. Now we’re rolling. Then we came across our first structure without a house number. Problem. What to do? Someone had the bright idea to check the junk mail that was hanging out of the mailbox. Viola! Address confirmed.

We continued along until we encountered another problem. It was a bed and breakfast with separate living quarters. How to enter this into our HHC? We didn’t have the answer. It was humorous encounter because the Indian lady standing on the front porch thought we were a group of Jehovah’s Witnesses descending upon her quaint bed and breakfast. She obviously mistook the Census Bureau bags that we all had hanging from our shoulders as packed full of Watchtower booklets instead of our training manuals and privacy notices. We quickly assured her that we weren’t there to save her soul.

Five o’clock was rapidly approached. We are not to put in more than eight hours a day of work. NO OVERTIME. I had a dinner date that night with a friend and his wife who were staying at the hotel in Lewes where I work. I went home and changed taking all my Census material with me. We are having our Big Test tomorrow. We have to score at least 70% to be kept on as a Census Bureau Address Canvasser. I had homework assignment to complete also after dinner. To be quite frank, I don’t care if I pass the test or not. We shall see.

The day ended as it had started, on a bad note. I’ve never eaten at Stripper Bites in Lewes. Now that my friends were in town, this was my opportunity. While I enjoyed getting together with my friends again, dinner was typical for Slower Lower Delaware. It was overpriced and tasteless. I’m not a seafood lover, so I ordered Stripper Bites “Angus” hamburger. For $12.00 I got a slab of meat that was the same kind of tasteless beef patty that one could get at any fast food joint. Tasteless except for what you put on it. Even the red onion that came with the hamburger was dried out. This was the first time I’ve ever gotten an old slice of onion. They must really be cutting back on expenses. The meal wasn’t totally lost. The French fries were good as was the Pinot Gregio glass of wine. My dinner mates were satisfied with their meal. I wasn’t. This may have been the meal that broke the camel’s back. I’ve been disappointed so many times with the meals down here in Slower Lower that I’m seriously considering to never eat out again. Bill and I have breakfast at Zorba’s every Saturday morning. While that breakfast is no great shakes, at least it isn’t overpriced. Plus, our weekly breakfast outing is more of a reason for me and Bill to get out than a culinary adventure.

Once home I cracked open the books and began studying for the Big Test this morning. By the end of this day I will know if this adventure continues. It is what it is.

Census Training - Day Three

The third day is the charm. I do believe the Census training is finally starting to sink into this 67 year old head. Oh, make no mistake about it though. I’m still on overload. My head hurts at the end of the day. During one of the breaks I was talking to another fellow trainee and she told me she was having trouble sorting out the information overload also. Both of our heads are aching at the end of the day.

Our job is address canvassing. We will descend upon assigned neighborhoods (known as “AA” for “Assigned Addresses”) and verify the address and location in our HHC (Hand Held Computer.) We are to delete addresses that are no longer there. We are to add addresses that are not in our HHC but are before us as we walk our assigned block. We are to add streets that are not on our HHC. We are to identify living quarters either as HU (Housing Units) or OLQ (Other Living Quarters.) I won’t go into any more detail on this blog lest I give the reader the same headache that I carry home each day. But, suffice it to say, the job sounds very interesting and one that I will enjoy. I love getting out and tromping around neighborhoods now anyway. I’m also a member in good standing of FAG (Find a Grave) but this time I’m checking on the addresses of living people instead of those departed to the Great Beyond.

You’re probably wondering if the Old Biddy bothered me again yesterday. Yes, she did. All morning she was either fidgeting around with her purse, tapping her pen on the desk, talking under her breath, complaining that she wanted to go home (go home already), or looking to see what I was doing. She did just about anything except pay attention to the instructor. When the instructor would say to turn to a certain page in the handbook, Old Biddy would turn to me and say “What did she say?” Then she would dive in her purse and get another peanut butter cracker (she eats all day) and nibble on it. The instructor at one point told us to turn on our HHC (hand held computers.) Old Biddy says “What did she say?” I repeated the instructor’s remark. Then Old Biddy turns to me and shows me her HHC, which is in the process of turning on and says “Why is the Beach Ball running?” The “Beach Ball” is the new Windows version of the hour glass – to indicate that the computer is running – Old Biddy is very impatient – constantly complained that the HHC was too slow for her. I told her “I don’t know.” She gives me a stricken look like I should know. She asks me again and again I repeat “I don’t know. Ask the instructor.” She’s in semi-shock at my response. Apparently her version of “Meet a Guy at a Training Session” has always worked before. It’s not working this time honey. Back to E-Harmony.com for a new date missy. So she asks the instructor. Since we’re sitting in the front row, the instructor has been aware of what has been going on with Miss Ants in her Pants. She answered her question but it didn’t take to long before the instructor slapped her down. That happened later on when Old Biddy was talking and fidgeting and squirming again and the instructor turned to her and said “Polly, please!” Finally, Old Biddy settled down. The rest of the day she didn’t bother me. Thank you Jesus.

Today is our first day in the field. Our group is assigned to Lewes. Coincidentally, our assignment will be close to the hotel where work I work in Lewes. I saw the map of our area of responsibility. It includes my neighborhood as well as the area of my friend Big Bob, Harvey and even Wayne. Ironically it was my friend Wayne who clued me in on the availability of this job. How ironic that I will probably be address canvassing his Living Quarters.

My big challenge now, in addition to getting comfortable with the routine of address canvassing, is juggling my Census job with my job at the hotel. Our first day of work for the Census is scheduled for this Saturday. As luck (or unluck – is that word?) would have it I’m also scheduled to work at the Inn. My hours are 7 am to 3 pm. Perhaps I can squeeze three hours of work in after working at the Inn since both locations are in Lewes. The Census Bureau doesn’t want us working after dusk. That’s because it is easier to identify addresses and living quarters during the daylight hours than it is at night. One thing that I can see clearly now, this retiree (whatever happened to my retirement?) is going to be very busy the next two months. Ron’s Great Adventure continues! Without the Old Biddy!

Census Training - Day Two

Now I have a headache. Talk about overload. Plus, I realized that the old biddy who chose to sit next to me on Monday is putting the moves on me. While I’m trying to listen to the instructor, this one is talking to me. Then she asks me a question about something the instructor said. So I’m getting stereo sound. The instructor is talking in one ear and Miss On The Make is talking in the other ear. She wasn’t taking any hints so I finally had to get rude and ignore her. I think she got the message. She turned our seat so the back was to me then she left early.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had to put up with this kind of nonsense. I probably got lulled into a sense of compliancy living in Gayberry (AKA Rehoboth Beach area.) Many of the women down here are either gay themselves or know that I am gay. Miss Marple today obviously doesn’t know I’m gay. This reminds me of all the years I commuted on the train back and forth to Philadelphia from Downingtown (eleven years) and would frequently have female passengers sit next to me and attempt to talk to me even as I had my Walkman earphones one. Did any nice looking guys ever sit next to me? Not really. Only when there were no other seats and then they would get up and move as soon as another seat was available. But the women? The train could be almost empty and one would invariable plop herself down next to me and try and start a conversation. I don’t miss those days. Talk about harassment.

Day Two of Census address verification training didn’t go as well today. My HCC (Hand Held Computer) refused to connect to the Internet. Thus, my crew leader had to take me outside the metal church building where we are housed to try and get a signal. We finally got one. However, by the time I returned inside the classroom, I was already behind in the lessons. Attempting to catch up, my HCC froze again. Just like old times here at home with this computer. Good old Mr. Softee (Bill Gates and Windows) came through again. I had to go back to my crew leader and another trip outside. This time she called the Help desk. I could hear the conversation on the speaker cell phone. It wasn’t India. That was a good sign. The problem was solved by resetting (rebooting) the HCC. Back in side to Old Lady On The Make. She decided to leave early. Good, don’t let the door hit your behind on the way out.

This census address canvassing job looks interesting. There is a lot to learn in just a few days then the pressure is on. Our job has to be completed by Memorial Day. I have to juggle my new census job with my regular job at the Inn. Of course as luck would have it I’m scheduled to work at the Inn this Saturday. This morning the regional Census manager came into our training group and announced that he would like all of us to start this Saturday. He would pay us overtime, which is time and a half. Unfortunately I can’t take him up on his offer as generous as it is because I am working Saturday 7 to 3. I’m also working Monday 7 to 3. Nice way to start of my new Census job. I talked to my crew leader and she said I can work around those hours. I have a feeling the next two months are going to be crazy. One good thing, tomorrow is the last day I have to put up with Spider Woman.

Day One at Census Training

Today was my first day as a U.S. Census Bureau worker. The location of the training was at the Lighthouse Church in Laurel, Delaware. I got up early and left early to make the 23 mile trip down Route 1, through Georgetown, Delaware. I didn’t want to be late. I wasn’t. I was an hour early. In fact, the church doors were still locked.

It wasn’t too long before the Census officials arrived with cartons of material for the trainees. I helped the women unload the boxes. One of them thought I was one of the trainers. I told her that I was one of the trainees who arrived early. I got a knife from the church kitchen and sliced open the tape that had secured the cartons of training material. After I was done, I selected a seat next to a window and waiting the arrival of the rest of the trainees.

Nine o’clock arrived soon enough along with about sixty more trainees. We were to be a consolidated training group. I was told this was the reason for the location in Laurel, it was the halfway point between the two districts. The materials were passed out. The first thing the instructor did was ask us to rise and take the oat of office. After we took the oath, she asked us? "Did that oath sound familiar?" Yes, it was very similar to the presidential oath. So now I'm an official government worker. My resume expands.

After administering the oath of office to us, the instructor explained to us our duties. It wasn’t too long before I realized that I wouldn’t be working on the census as I originally had thought. Instead we’re doing the preliminary step to the census count. We are called listers. Our job is address canvassing. That means we are given a neighborhood or an area and go out and verify the addresses. We are to identify structures that are listed as living quarters. This includes checking buildings, trailers, sheds, tents and even caves. Yes, caves. That should be interesting to see who is living in a cave. Anything that is a structure, we are to check.

We will be working with hand held computers. Perhaps this sounds easy but it is actually more complicated than it sounds. There is a certain protocol to be followed. Our official title is “Census Enumerator.” What we’re doing is counting and identifying where people live. We have a U. S. Census badge that we wear around out neck identifying us. We have to identify ourselves when wandering through neighborhoods clockwise canvassing structures for addresses. We have to indentify ourselves everywhere we venture, even the caves.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the day was when we got fingerprinted. Yes, fingerprinted. Again, it was not as easy as it sounds. No, we didn’t have to get mug shots. The fingerprinting is necessary because that is how we sign on to our hand held computers, heretofore to be known as our “HHC.” Lots and lots of acronyms were tossed at us today. We were told by our instructor that by the end of the week we will be masters of those acronyms. Ah, brings back memories of my Army days (AOL, TDY, etc.)

At the beginning of the day I was unsure if I would like this job. That uncertainty is gone now. I can see where this job will be interesting. My only concern now is working around my hours at the Inn. I’m scheduled to work four days next week and the following week. I think this should be manageable because there are no set hours. One of the big rules is that we’re not allowed to work more than 40 hours in any given week. The other Big Rule is that all the information we accumulate is confidential. We are not to divulge any of this information now or after we leave our temporary employment with the U.S. Census Bureau. Again, brings back memories of my time in the Army when I worked for the National Security Agency at Ft. Meade, Maryland.

Most of my fellow trainees were older women. The ratio of women to men was about 70/30. There were very few young people. I counted only four in the total group of about sixty trainees. I initially counted myself among the young (a frequent mistake I make until I look in the mirror in the morning) until I realized at 67 years of age, I’m in with the rest of the group.

Today was a good day. The trainer was knowledgeable and had a sense of humor. She conducted today’s session with an easy authoritarian manner. We learned something in a friendly collegial atmosphere. A bit of overload with the information but I’m sure we will be more comfortable with it by the time we finish our training session this Friday. The only downside was my lunchtime excursion to Hardee’s. Why did I think I could eat a fast food hamburger? Fast food is the meal that keeps on giving. I’m still digesting that 100% Black Angus Thickburger. Tasteless.

Embarking on a New Adventure

Tomorrow I embark on a new adventure. I begin classes for training as a census enumerator for the 2010 census. Classes are at the Light House Church in Laurel, Delaware, 23 miles from where I live. Classes will be for one week, 9 to 5. The first three days are classroom training. The remaining two days will be in the field. When I first was told that classes would be held so far away, I told the Census Bureau representative I wasn’t interested. Part of the reason was my fear that I would be assigned to conduct census training to far away from my home. Late on Friday a higher up in the bureau called and assured me that they would make every reasonable effort see that my area of responsibility would be in the Milton-Lewes area. I was persuaded. I’m easily persuaded. So, we will see.

I’ve held many different jobs in my lifetime. But I’ve never been a census taker. Somehow this is fitting because for years I’ve worked with old census records in doing my Tipton family genealogy research. I’ve looked at those old census records and noted the misspellings and thought “why couldn’t they be more careful?” Now I will have a chance to correct that error for future generations of genealogy researchers. Maybe this is my legacy as an amateur genealogist.

Life’s patterns do work in strange ways. I started out my work career as a five year old child running errands to the local grocery store for relatives and neighbors. From there I progressed to newspaper boy, office cleaner, dishwasher at local restaurant, meat counter clerk at local farmer’s market, soldier in the Army, hotel night auditor at the Pittsburgh Hilton hotel, accounts payable clerk at Lipsett Steel Products, remittance clerk at Girard Bank, trust operations manager at Mellon Bank, research project reconcilement and control manager for Fidelity Bank, gardener on private estate, trust operations manager (again) at Downingtown National Bank, front desk clerk at Hampton Inn (hotel work again), trust operations consultant at First Financial Bank, front desk clerk at Marriott Hotel (again), front desk clerk at the Inn at Canal Square, and now U. S. Census Bureau enumerator. Along the way I took no acting jobs.

For the past sixty years I’ve always had one kind of job or another. I’ve always had to keep bringing the money in. I wasn’t one of those fortunate children whose parents were committed to putting me through college (although I wanted to go in the worst way.) I didn’t have enough self-confidence to work my way through college so I joined the Army, perhaps the best decision I ever made in my life. I learned more in the Army that I ever would have in college. I matured immensely and gained a level of self confidence one I got away from the environment that did little to nurture self-confidence.

Through the G. I. Bill I gained a college degree (associate degree in business management from Peirce College in Philadelphia.) Also, because of my service in the Army I am now receiving lifetime care from the Veterans Administration. All the years I had complete medical coverage from my banking jobs, I never used it once. It wasn’t until I lost my job with the bank that I was in need of medical care. The care I received from the Veterans Administration Medical Center was the best I’ve ever received in my life for which I will be ever thankful. Socialized medicine work for me, so there Harry and Louise.

The only serious medical care I received before was when I was 17 years old. I had failed my medical induction exam to join the Army. I was informed that I was born with a hernia. The Army would not take me until I got it fixed. I had the operation. The operation went fine but I caught a staph infection from the hospital which almost killed me. I had the staph infection for six months. After a series of operations, the staph infection finally disappeared. I took the medical examination again. This time I passed and I joined the Army January 27, 1960.

Someday I will sit down and write the story of my life. My story may be of little interest to most people but I would like to do it for myself at least and for those future Tipton family genealogy researchers. Fifty or a hundred years from now some researcher may pick that book of my life story and be encouraged to write their own life story. In the meantime, my life story isn’t over yet. I have a whole new chapter to write starting tomorrow. The adventure continues.

Census Training

This morning I called the Census Bureau to find out the location of my classes which are to begin Monday, March 30th. Two weeks ago they called me and offered me the job. At that time they told me when the classes were to begin but they didn’t tell me the location. I patiently waited two weeks for a call from the Census Bureau and heard nothing. This wasn’t a good sign. So, this morning I called. I was informed that the classes would be in at the Lighthouse Church in Laurel, Delaware. Laurel is 21 miles from where I live. At least the training session wasn’t in Philadelphia or Dover. My greater concern was once I finished the classes, where would I be assigned? I told the Census Bureau representative it was too far me to travel and to count me out.

Later today I received a call from the local supervisor of the Census Bureau. She informed me that the classes were being held in Laurel as a combination of two areas to save time for training. She assured me that every effort would be made to assign me to the Milton-Lewes area. I expressed my concern that I didn’t want to be knocking on people’s doors who are not in my demographic area. She told me that the census bureau didn’t want to pay for excess mileage to census workers. After her explanation I felt a lot more comfortable.

The first three days will be class training. The next two days will be training in the field. That sounds interesting. I am looking forward to it. The job comes at a good time since my hours have been cut in half at the Inn. I continue to spend money like there is no tomorrow. Just this morning I made a pit stop at Loews’ and purchased several forsythia plants. Spring is just around the corner and I do consider it my personal responsibility to keep Peppers (a local nursery) in business. In the past two weeks I had my 98 Subaru overhauled when my odometer hit 111,000. That set me back over $1,700. I’m shooting for 200,000 miles on my old reliable red Forester. Last summer I briefly considered buying a new car but when I was only offered $1,600 as trade in (book value was $3,800), I decided keeping my car was worth more than a hefty commission for the Subaru auto dealer.

Wednesday I was fitted for a partial plate at my dentist in Dover. That little baby set me back another $1,049. And that’s with insurance. I only had to pay half. Of course when I was in Dover I had to stimulate the local Wal-Mart and Sam’s Club. Tomorrow I’m going to stimulate a local author and buy up a passel of her very funny books as gifts for my friends. I’ve also made several charitable contributions (local theater group, local fire company) in the past week. Then there are my regular monthly bills for Discover Card, Master Card, propane gas bill, electric bill, water bill, and the combination telephone/satellite TV/DSL computer connection/wireless phone bill from Verizon. It still boggles my mind how my hillbilly ancestors in the hills of western North Carolina managed without these “necessities” of life. Oh yes, I’m high maintenance.

So what to do? Cut back and hibernate in my house or work more and continue my lavish lifestyle? Oh yes, I do like to eat out. This Sunday I have a date with my friends at the Purple Parrot in Rehoboth Beach. We won’t have too many more of these Sunday night get-togethers once the horde of summertime tourists descend on our quaint little beach resort. I don’t think there is any question as to my choice. I will make the laborious trip next week to Laurel for my census training classes. It’s only for a week. Compare that to the eleven year commute I made from Downingtown, PA to Philadelphia which I paid $280 a month for the privilege of doing so. Of course there is no comparison. I have gotten spoiled since I moved to Delaware. I’m glad that the Census Bureau has offered me a job and is paying for my training. I am very fortunate. The adventure continues.