Robo Hobo Homo #083

I walked back to the unemployment office that doesn't feel like an unemployment office and logged on to ask my old roommates to send me a copy of my birth certificate. I filed everything away pretty well for record-keeping purposes so I was hoping they could find it and send it to me.

These guys have helped me out so much I felt bad for asking them to spend money to send it to me, but I needed it to get this job and I hoped they would understand.

To give you a sense of how life works down here, I would receive the certificate in the mail before I could check my email to see their response. Anyone who tells you that “snail mail” is obsolete has the privilege of regular internet access.

Robo Hobo Homo #045

I put in some Elance bids Tuesday. I almost never do that. I’ve had an account since forever, but I’m always afraid I won’t be able to finish or that I’m somehow unqualified and that I’ll ruin my Elance reputation and I’ll never get more Elance work. I’m always more comfortable with things that might be useful later if I never use them.

Well, this is the eleventh hour. It’s as late as it gets.

They had one for editing blogs written by folks who had English as their second language. That seemed like a layup so I went for it.

There was one where I’d be taking simple phrases and rearranging them to make them legally distinct simple phrases. That was weird, but I put in a bit that was on-the-nose price-wise and they went with someone else.

The last one was for 5 opinionated finance/current event blogs of 300+ words. Now, I don’t know anything about finance, but give me a laptop and a wi-fi range long enough, I can learn anything on Earth. I put in what I think was a pretty good bid.

On Wednesday, I learned that I got it. The blogs were for the personal blog of someone who's pretty important, even if I’d never heard of them. The wheels began to spin. I was on the library computer because of the problems with mine, so I only had thirty minutes to get things done. I opened up tabs of relevant news articles and printed them to the Microsoft Document Writer. I don’t have internet at Purgatory Shelter so I had cache them so I could read them later and write the articles when I was back at the shelter.

I barely got my articles saved and transferred to the internet before time ran out. As poorly as my computer was running, I managed to get the files and get them onto it. I went over them a bit, then I picked up magazines off of the shelf and read finance articles until it was three thirty and I was at the cutoff point for when I had to get home.

The entire walk back to the shelter, I was jubilant. I felt alive like I hadn’t in so long. There was some worry in there too though. I acknowledged it and decided to focus on the present.

For those moments at least.

Robo Hobo Homo #044, Clarification Online

When I said earlier that there's "no standard" for passwords, I meant for social services cites. Sometimes they need a symbol, "!" or something. Sometimes, they need eleven characters. I can change my password to match the site, but the thing is that I never remember which modified password matches which site.

It happens with job applications too. Every company has their own standard of password which ostensibly exists for my own good, but is usually a fast-track to a password reset email.

I appreciate that these folks want to protect me while I'm trying to work for them, but it becomes a real hassle really quickly. I could just write down the passwords; I don't honestly think that anyone is going to steal my healthcare password (and I know they couldn't decipher it if they did get a hold of the book I'd inevitably write it on). 

The practical answer is for companies and agencies to list the password requirements of their site on their login pages. Not necessarily directly on it, but available under a button so I can more easily recall which set of bullshit, atypical features my password has to have for site #119383498.

Robo Hobo Homo #043

I also did some shuttle runs between the computer and the public phone.

A letter from the healthcare selection department (not my actual healthcare provider) confirmed my fears; I'd entered the address incorrectly whenever I'd signed up. I tried to fix it online, but I've logged into so many systems over the past week that I've completely forgotten all of my logins and passwords because there isn't a standard. So I was locked out of my account and had to shuttle run to the phone to handle it there.

A nice guy named Judge helped me out and we had a few laughs about how the mailman took my mail to the right address anyway and how I used to do call center work and other stuff until I was fixed up.

Then I shuttled back to the computer.

I was trying to get the SafeLink phone hooked up (still). According to the internet, my application was canceled. I turns out I originally filed under “really poor” because I have no money, but it turns out I needed to file under “receiving food stamps.” The woman in India who has a job was very polite and explained what had happened and what needed to happen.

I returned to the computer and started my third (fourth?) SafeLink application. At the end, it needed my Food Stamp ID number, which I'd never gotten from the food stamp people. So I had to shuttle run back to the phone to call the Food Stamp people and get my number.

The number they gave me was eight digits, but SafeLink needed nine (naturally). Stymied, I put a '0' in front of my number and it went through. All I needed was for SafeLink to talk to the Food Stamp department and verify that I was on food stamps, then they'd put the phone in the mail.

Until then, it's shuttle runs and getting call-backs at the front counter of a homeless shelter.

Robo Hobo Homo #035

The last two things my case worker brought up were actually about finding work. 

Do I have a resume and a social security card? No. I lost my resumes with my good backpack at a gay bar in the city the night before I arrived. I didn't tell him that; I'm not an alcoholic and the how isn't as important as the now.

I'd already told him what happened to my social security card, but he'd forgotten. I told him that I'd destroyed it and he made the exact same face as when I'd told him the first time. He still never asked why, but instead told me to get another one. I'll be doing that Wednesday.

I'm not sure about the copy of my resume. I'll talk about that more later.

Finally, he told me a thing that would help me work to get money from a third party! There's a company that hires folks to work in their lodges during the tourist season and moves them around to different locations year round. If I was willing to travel it was an option.

I said yes.

So he set me up with a computer and I went to their website. Of course their only opening was a fantastic executive sales position so of course I applied to it.

I also took the opportunity to reapply to SafeLink. My application on Saturday had ended on a vague error message asking me to call them. I'd called that afternoon while waiting for Daryl's schedule to clear (no matter what else I say about the guy, he keeps busy) and they didn't have any record of my application.

Starting from scratch, I applied again, this time getting stuck when they asked for me to upload a picture of my Food Stamps card. Now my laptop doesn't have photo capturing software and I don't have a phone to take pictures with, so in order to get a phone to make calls, receive calls, and take pictures, I need to ask someone to take a picture of my Food Stamps card and sent it to SafeLink. It rubs me in exactly 359° of wrong directions, but it's doable.

Eventually, it was time for dinner and I had to take off.

Robo Hobo Homo #033

I set up quickly and started ordering a brand new prepaid phone from eBay. The one that met my requirements was about $60, and it would be another $50 for the phone card. It was a lot, but my PayPal money wasn't of any use to me until I got a bank account. Worst case scenario; I could hock the phone and have cash in my pocket at a minimal loss. If it's one thing I've learned from gaming, it's that a hundred of a resource I can't use is worth one of a resource I desperately need.

It wouldn't be until later that day that I would realize my new Food Stamp card made another shot at Safelink a good idea.

After that, I checked my email for job replies and messages. My brother's birthday is coming up and he asked if I was still in Texas. I told him I wasn't because there was nothing there for me and left it at that. Curt, but at this point, there's nothing more to say.

Terrence messaged me back, too. His grandmother had just died and he wished me luck. I couldn't think to do anything but apologize for the timing. He lost his brother about two years ago and I feel like I just wanted to make this a little bit less shitty for him.

I scoped a few jobs and restarted my computer about four times, so the fifty minutes passed pretty quickly.

Robo Hobo Homo #022

After I left the thrift store on Saturday, my next stop was the library. I'd created a farewell message to my family and friends, but in retrospect it was a bit more severe than I'd planned. I mean, I was planning on vanishing forever.

Seeing as how I wasn't going to be vanishing forever, I opted to put up a message that wasn't quite as extreme. However, I still wanted to contact my loved ones and let them know what was up.

My good friends, Syn and Jayne, responded with just a touch of optimism above neutral. They knew I hadn't been happy for a long time and they knew it was in my nature to take off this way. They understood and I, in turn, understood them.

Then I contacted my best friend Terrence. I was the best man at his wedding. We've been friends since forever. We're simpatico in ways that I've never been simpatico with anyone. He didn't respond at all. I understand that too.

My sister lost her shit. She never really got me and she aggressively rejects every part of my nature. We're closer to each other that we are to my brother, but that's not saying much. It was dramatic, but then in our own restrained, WASPy way, we're a pretty dramatic bunch.

I dunno. Maybe she was just giving me my dramatic exit.