Robo Hobo Homo #085

Before I tell another Larry story, let me talk a bit more about Mr. McCoy. He is a pretty great guy. I don't know if I could have a bigger advocate for me in the unemployment office that doesn't feel like an unemployment office.

He is also a poster-child for the pretty libertarian ideas out here. Whenever he mentioned living in San Diego, he mentioned he had to leave he made mention of Tijuana and explained, “because trash blows up against the fence.” He clarified that he meant actual waste poured into the Pacific Ocean by Tijuana, but it didn't dispel the “dirty immigrants” implications of his initial station.

I also reordered a copy of my DD214. I have a scanned copy, but Daryl told me that a new copy would be better to have on hand. I don't think he's wrong and McCoy was the guy to get it for me. He was reluctant to have it sent to Purgatory Shelter though. Very reluctant.

We need a word that means, “eventually just shy of eventually,” or “right before the end.” Because it was at that stage in our conversation that he relented and agreed to send it there. However, when I finally checked my email on Wednesday, I saw that he had changed his mind.

I've never had a problem getting mail here. Writing this up a week later I'm still waiting for my Safelink phone, but that's not a receipt problem. Look, we're a bunch of homeless dudes, but we're just guys living in a rough circumstance. This isn't a den of thieves. This isn't Lord of the Flies. Sure, some guys are getting past drug problems and occasionally we'll get a guy who isn't past them. Sometimes, we'll get folks with intense mental problems. There are some problems here, but Purgatory House is a good place with good people in it.

I don't know if Mr. McCoy's problem comes from a personal experience or an ugly bigotry against the homeless who aren't of the anointed military caste, but his actions are a repulsive mark on an otherwise impressive and warm character.

Robo Hobo Homo #082

The interview having gone well, I had to get a background check. I also had to get identification for tax forms, including my social security card. I still had to follow-up with Mr. McCoy.

The background check was conducted through a local temp agency about twelve blocks down the road. It was a bit of a walk, but it taught me that the city expanded a great deal further east than I had originally thought. I passed Pace Road, which leads to the mountain, and saw a few pawn shops that might let me sell the phone I'd ordered off of eBay.

The lady at the temp agency was really nice. The background check paperwork was standard procedure so there wasn't much to talk about. There was a guy there who seemed like a bit of a closet case, but then I don't much believe in gaydar.

I did think that maybe temp work would work for me. I have clerical experience. I like learning new things and seeing new environments. Temp work would be a great way for me to hone my core marketable skill set while still keeping my wanderlust satiated.

...and maybe I'm a Chinese jet pilot.

Robo Hobo Homo #081

My interview at the answering service went really well. I don't really know how to describe it. My boss seemed reserved and socially anxious, something I could identify with.

He also brought in another employee, asked for her input pretty regularly, and seemed to have a professional, open relationship with her. She continued to provide incisive additions and questions throughout the interview.

We dispensed with the social pleasantries pretty quickly and got down to brass tacks pretty. I'm never really sure in interviews how much is social pretext and how much is actual interview, so I was pretty happy to talk job duties, work schedules, technical backgrounds, and pay rates frankly and openly.

When he asked when I could start I offered--as a show of good faith--that night.

He said, “is eleven tonight okay?”

Robo Hobo Homo #080

Mr. McCoy had a degree in environmental science. He'd tried to get a job on the mountain, but he ended up working at the unemployment office. He had spent three years volunteering in park though and didn't seem to think too much of the questions I'd asked him.

I'm definitely planning on talking to him again, about the mountain and a few other things.

We eventually did get down to business. He had a thick packet of resources I could use. Resources I wish I'd thought to utilize whenever I was living in San Antonio. Back then, I either had the resources to do something or I didn't. I never considered getting help moving forward with my life, then getting to the point where I didn't need help. Just doing everything full-bore instantly had been my approach.

He was insistent that I use those resources. Really insistent because even though I know they're a good idea to use, even though I know it's that reluctance that got me here, even though I know people want to help, it's still so hard for me to ask for help.

Eventually, the time came for my job interview and I had to go.

Robo Hobo Homo #066

I did some landscaping because it needed doing. We're shorthanded. Actually, I should have a person doing dishes with me in the evenings. We just lost six slots of lobby duty, about twelve hours for the week gone from the schedule. I picked up two hours for Friday, and I might have to pick up more if no one else does. Picking up a shift tonight, Thursday, was right out; I have a job interview tomorrow.

Oh, yeah, about that. The plan was that after Eric and I got our bus passes (fingers crossed), I could fall out out to the local help get people employed office to, amongst other reasons, print out a resume. There's a game store downtown. I can't even tell you the name. Partially because everything I write about here is hidden behind a really, really thin veil of pseudonyms, but mostly because the name is hilariously bad.

The store looks cool though, but then a Hill Giant looks good to a Magic: the Gathering player who hasn't shuffled up a deck in as long as I have.

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 #036 Professional Interfacing Contributor

When I first started looking for work two years ago, I just blasted the same resume over and over. When that didn't work, I started tailoring each resume to each position. I've got hundreds of resumes now. More than Tony Stark has Iron Man armors. To be more precise, not-a-thousand hundred.

So when people ask for a resume, I'm a bit thrown back. I don't really have one resume to rule them all. They're each custom pieces which balance my qualifications with concerns about being considered overqualified, concerns over gaps in my job history versus the thoroughness of a background check, the stretch of a title versus their willingness to reconcile that with a call to my references, the probability of it matching search terms in an automated search system with appearing shallow and copy-pasted to a real person reading them.
 

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 #028

After the welfare office, I went to the local public office dedicated to finding folks employment. Let's call it EmployFolks.

They had a website and I'd applied to a job through it Saturday, but I guess it turns out that there was a different site. I ended up looking like a jerk in front of an old lady as I tried to log onto my account that didn't exist.

We eventually got it sorted, and I learned I could sign up for a resume class and even print resumes with them, saving me costs on printing things from the library. They're still all the way downtown, but it's a new resource.

In that same building, there was a Community Public Relations office. I don't know how else to explain what this place is. Word from my friend Eric—I'll talk more about him in a bit—is that they give out bus passes towards the end of the month. Bus passes cost around $36 and they make riding the bus within the city free.

He didn't know the times though, so I volunteered to look into it and maybe we could both get one on the available dates. I found out they were giving some out on Friday and let him know when I got back to Purgatory Shelter that night.

It was the ultimate side quest.

With the fresh hope that something besides getting around town was going to be the straw that broke my financial back, I began walking over to put in my volunteer hours.

Robo Hobo Homo #027

While I waited, I perused the job posting they had in the back of the office. It was the same stuff from the local public office dedicated to finding folks employment. It was varied and informative, but nothing meaty or new.

I was called and had a nice conversation with the woman as she coded my card. She'd moved up from Los Angeles and much preferred it up here. We talked a bit about the difference between the two until my card was ready, she told me it should be activated no later than seven AM Tuesday and I left.

During the last conversation, it had occurred to me to ask about the cash benefits, but there's this...social inertial to things that I sometimes don't fight against. It feels equal parts unnecessary and rude to do so. I feel that it introduces an impulsive, selfish element to the interactions of the people around me. The decision to stay here was predicated on me learning to throw out those old behaviors.

I'll call them in the morning and ask about it.

Robo Hobo Homo #025

So I have this computer. I try to stay productive even when I'm not connected to the internet. I can save webpages with job applications from Craigslist or wherever and I can craft resumes and write cover letters for it while I'm offline. Once I get to the library or wherever, I can pop 'em over, give them a fresh review, and send them off.

I can also write stuff like this, create game plans, or think up articles to write for sites that pay for blind submissions. I keep busy on this little guy.

It was a gift from a friend and it is a monster computer. It's just really big. Super-big. Way faster than my last laptop too. I loves it, despite the damage it's suffered.

So I'm really concerned when this guy, Palestine (Pally for short) walks buy and just assumes I want to sell it. He did it twice. We haven't even been formally introduced to one another.

Yeah, he's kind of a bravo. Anyway, I mention very clearly that it doesn't work well—to cut down on his interest—and he mentions with a smile that he knows a guy who can fix it.

I don't want to assume that homeless people are thieves. I mean, I am homeless people. Being homeless takes a certain amount of trust though. If everything you own can be picked up by you, then everything you own can be picked up by someone else. It's something I'm very aware of.

I'm also aware of how important a computer that has all of my resumes, my cover letters, my bookmarks for jobs, my signed in internet accounts, my DD214, lists of references, detailed work history, and all of my gay erotica is to me.

The answer is very.

It finally got resolved today—I'm doing a rough draft of Robo Hobo Homo blogs #1-25 on my first Sunday here—when he mentioned it again and I reemphasized in strong language that it barely functioned as I conspicuously put it into my backpack.

A few minutes later he approached me and said he didn't mean to make me uncomfortable or to leave me with the impression that he might steal my laptop. It was nice of him and I do feel a bit better, but my mind is far from at ease over it all.

Robo Hobo Homo #024

The words “I will regain all that I have lost,” keep going through my head.

They're good as a broad mission statement, but then I am an idea guy. The trick is always in the execution. Ostensibly “get a job,” is a plan, but there are a lot of part-time jobs that won't necessary enable me to live independently. There are plenty of jobs that won't move me towards my end goal.

Not that I know what that is. I want to be a good writer. I want to be a wealthy, famous writer, or at the very least someone who pulls in some cash with a side gig doing the writing he loves.

I also want to be a software developer. I want to solve logical problems and expand tools and watch a thing that I created move. I want to explore ideas and wield computers like a god. A nice cubicle that offers holiday pay and health insurance would also be nice.

I'd like to teach. I'd like to be a freelance web designer. I'd like to operate nuclear reactors. I'd like to drive my car without wondering if it's going to collapse. I'd like to go on a date without apologizing for how little money I have. I'd like to revisit all of the names from my past I have scrawled on the inside of my soul in a great reckoning of pain and pleasure.

I want a rebirth of glory, a renaissance of power! I want to stop running through my life like a man late for an appointment, afraid to look back or look forward. I want us to be what we used to be! I want...I want it all back the way it was.

Robo Hobo Homo #023

I also happened across a janitorial job at a local small business. It pays about average for work around here. Part time. Late hours. Nothing special.

By taking it, I'd be committing to a “rebuilding” plan. I'd be working there for just a while, taking in money to springboard myself to another job. Eventually, I'd leave for something better or just, as I've done in the past, leave because I felt that I wasn't going anywhere there. It's a pattern I've gone through before. It's good for me, but it's not so great for the people who are going to have to hire and train a new janitor from scratch in my aftermath.

Then again, I could get that job, springboard myself to another part time job, and then do both of those for a while as I get housing, clothes, some training, and some other resources under me, waiting a bit longer before I take on the next step.

Y'know, an extended plan to use two people before leaving them. It's better yeah, but I guess you don't hire a part-time janitor and plan for them to retire on the job.

I guess a lot of it depends on my plan and even when my entire world has collapse in on me, even when everything has shattered because I'm not willing to answer a question, I'm still not willing to answer it.

Robo Hobo Homo #020

Earlier I mentioned shutting off my phone service. I waited until the last minute because I knew it was essential to finding a job. It wasn't until I'd exhausted all hope that I shut it down and even then it was like tearing off an arm.

I was so incredibly right. Now that I don't have one, I have so many obstacles to overcome. I don't ever know what time it is. That means I'm never quite sure if I've missed a bus or not. Also, if I miss a bus, I can't call Purgatory Shelter and let them know I'm coming. So I have to plan to catch the 4:20 bus instead of the 4:40 bus if I want to eat or not miss curfew.

When employers are interested in calling me back, what number do I give them? Purgatory Shelter. That doesn't put a smiley face in the “Hire” column guys.  When they do call, you have to remember that Purgatory Shelter maintains strict confidentiality, so I have to leave a note with the guy in the lobby to answer any questions that people ask when they call.

No, that's too broad. Just answer the questions that the companies I've put in applications with have. Well, them and the hiring agencies. Well, maybe I should just say “anyone” then and waive confidentiality goodbye. Assuming, of course, that whoever is on duty reads my note, remembers it, and recognizes the name as my name when someone calls.

Fingers crossed!

Robo Hobo Homo #017

So a while back I mentioned a voucher for me to get clothes.

I rolled into town with just the shirts on my back. No jacket. A blanket because, hey, Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy, am I right?

Those got funky quickly and I got a voucher and on my fourth day here I got to take a bus into town and cash in my voucher at the Purgatory Thrift Store. It turns out they're related to the shelter I'm staying at.

Not that it did me any favors. They were not happy to see me. Maybe it's because I wasn't moving quickly and they assumed I knew what the deal was but was stupid or maybe they were just busy.

My voucher listed pants and shirt for an interview, underwear, socks, shoes, and a belt. It took me a second to find the mens' corner. I guess that they just don't receive a lot of men's clothes. We don't usually buy much and if other men are like my friends, we just wear what we do buy into the ground. Not much of a secondary market there.

So none of the belts were better than the one I had on. None of the shoes fit my size 10EEE foot (not even close). I'm 5' 8” and 160lbs, so my shirts are as small as my feet are large. There are far more large and extra-large shirts out there than mediums for some reason. That reality was reflected in the options available.

But there were options. The pants were slim pickings as well, but I eventually found a pair that fit well, even if they were a bit sheer. They also had some light stains which weren't immediately visible under the light of the thrift shop. I chose them and a second pair with the hopes that the lights of an actual interview would be equally forgiving.

Gonna say right now, "Probably not."

Robo Hobo Homo #015

Now they don't have “plenty” of food here, but there's enough. The helpings are big because meals are cooked never knowing who's going to show up. Enough is made for everyone, and there are leftovers, but never enough to reuse for a whole meal the next day. In the five days I've been here, two people have dropped off perishable foods here for us to enjoy. There's usually bread, peanut butter, and some fruit available in the dining area.

So there's a lot of food around and without wi-fi, a cheap means of getting around, or anything nearby to do, it's easy to just sit around and eat. The temptation is the worst after kitchen duty. The other thing about working late is that when I'm done, I'm in pain, I'm tired, and I'm mentally drained (yes, focusing on doing dishes so I can do them as quickly as I can is draining).

About that time, it's snack time. There's an actual snack time. It's an unhealthy meal served late at night and it's always really tempting.

Luckily, it's the only time that all of my roommates are out of the room, so I can do some light workouts. Because it's so hard to do laundry and because I don't have any decent clothes for it, it's still kinda hard to get workouts in.

I have walked a lot. I manage to stay busy when there's something to do. When there's nothing to do, I try to find something to do. Especially on the weekends though, when no one is hiring for anything, the hours stretch on. It's a very conscious effort to watch what I'm eating.

Whether it's fair or not, I have three advantages when it comes to interviews. They're not things that make me better than anyone I'm competing with; they're things that employers generally count as a virtue because people are shit. I'm a dude, I'm white, and I'm not bad looking.

As shitty as it is, I'm hanging onto that last one as much as I can here.

Robo Hobo Homo #013

Everyone has a theory. That thirty-minute conversation I had with The Mumblr exposed me to a lot of theories. Danny, who told me about how he called everyone. He had some theories. My bunkmate Larry has a lot of theories. I have theories, but then we all live in Purgatory Shelter.

My theory is that in our mad, mad world, you work for someone before they hire you. It's bullshit, right? Like, they have human resources departments that are paid to find and recruit good people. I don't think that it works that way down here though.

I think that human resources folks on my level just keep up certifications and give anti-sexual harassment training. I think the thing is that you have to act like a person working for them whose job it is to get you hired. The assumption is that they won't follow up or pursue you unless you act like you already work for them.

It's a stupid system, but the behavioral model of most businesses that hold: as lazy as they are stupid.

Robo Hobo Homo #012

Everything down here runs on cash. Well, cash and tobacco. Even if I do get a paycheck, I'll lose a cut off of the top of it just to get it turned into cash. The alternative is opening a bank account. Using the library internet, I looked up costs to open up a bank account:

Local Bank A: ??? to open an account,  $3 monthly for a balance <$250
Natl. Bank A: ??? to open an account, $12 monthly for a balance <$250
Local Bank B:$100 to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Local Bank C:$100 to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Natl. Bank B: %50 to open an account, $7 monthly fee
Local Bank D: LOL, NOPE!
Local Bank E:$100 to open an account, ?? monthly fee
Local Bank F:$100 to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Natl. Bank C: ??? to open an account, $0 monthly fee
Local Bank G: $50 to open an account, $7 monthly fee

So, I guess if my first check comes in to over $50, I can open an account with Local Bank G. I'll be paying $7 a month from then on out for banking. Now, they might have other accounts whenever I get more money or a minimum balance that waives the cost, but for now, that's what the number is.

The alternative is that if my first check is less than $100, I cash it, pocket it, and open up an account at Local Bank B after my next pay period.

Or maybe it's $100 straight up and all of this is academic.

It doesn't seem like much, but right now if I were to interview downtown and work five days out of a week before my first check, I'm down $12 before I see any money ($1 bus rides each way). I could stretch that by walking home at night, which I'll have to because I don't have $12 to spare. I rolled into town with $15, but I've spent $4.40 of it and $5 is in reserve for park fare in case I end up climbing the mountain anyway.

This leads me to a theory I'm going to talk about later.