I came to this region on a train from Los Angeles. I usually travel by bus if my car can't make the trip. Buses are crowded and smelly and sad. Buses are expensive, slow, and sad. My car is awesome.
I've never been to this part of the country and the views afforded by the train were spectacular. There were even a few volunteers from The National Forestry Service that came on board to talk about the history of the region and answer a few questions. We had some nice talks.
I'm never taking the train again. The time and expense were bad enough, but the lack of wi-fi was the nail in the coffin. Been there, done that.
I got dropped off in a the big, headlining city. As a country boy who grew up in the woods of The Big Thicket and the flatlands of Louisiana, a city--a full-on city--built in a hilly environment is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever seen. I try to be vague about my location, but I literally lost count of the Starbucks after about six blocks.
I spent the rest of that day and another in town, looking for work. Without luck.
I didn't matter anyway. It had been a long time since I'd had any hope of finding a job. I'd given up believing that anyone wanted me to be a part of your society. I had a plan.
At the end of the second day, I closed my phone account, closed my bank account, had a few drinks at a nice local gay karaoke bar, and spent my last night the hostel.
Come dawn, I picked up a few supplies, realized I'd lost my backpack at the bar, and caught a late ferry towards what I thought was my very final destination.
A few country buses later and I'm at the very first RoboHoboHomo blog, checking in at Purgatory Shelter.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Monday, June 2, 2014
Robo Hobo Homo #008
I guess the mathematical reason I'm here is because it's been two years since I've had a job. A real job. I've done a few different things part time. I get a bit of loose change on the internet for doing some general proofing/copywriting/coding stuff, but not a lot. Not enough.
I left my last real job working offshore in the Gulf of Mexico so I could finish school. I shit you not, I have a degree in Engineering. No labs, practical experience, connections, or internships that would make a career in engineering possible though.
Or any career at all, apparently.
I get a bit bitter when I talk about this because, y'know, I think I deserve better. I can do a job and do the hell out of it better than a guy who's doing it now, but has better connections. It's not the other guy I'm angry at; he's just an organism like my bunkmate performing the actions that get him the things that he wants. No judgments.
It's the system I'm angry at and me for not being flexible enough to succeed within it. For saying “Aw, I'm not good with people,” as an excuse not to make connections and undertake some tasks. For saying, “Yo, this is wrong,” or just walking away whenever my employer is lying, stealing, or cheating. If I could just not give a shit about the jobs I do, I think I'd be a bit further ahead than I am now.
I'm high-roading a bit, but I think it's justified. Two years, I've been living with friends and family, putting in about twenty applications and resumes a week. I've gotten maybe a half-dozen interviews. Three of them panned out into short term jobs, but none of them lasted or lead to anything greater.
I have, in retrospect, been pretty conservative. I've let some opportunities pass me by. I wanted something better, but I couldn't tell the people trying to take advantage of my desire for something more from the people trying to help me up.
My family and friends tried to help me and they did a lot of good, but in the end, they couldn't get me where I wanted to go. I wanted to go forward. I wanted to do something worthwhile. I wanted to make it on my own.
And now I'm here.
I left my last real job working offshore in the Gulf of Mexico so I could finish school. I shit you not, I have a degree in Engineering. No labs, practical experience, connections, or internships that would make a career in engineering possible though.
Or any career at all, apparently.
I get a bit bitter when I talk about this because, y'know, I think I deserve better. I can do a job and do the hell out of it better than a guy who's doing it now, but has better connections. It's not the other guy I'm angry at; he's just an organism like my bunkmate performing the actions that get him the things that he wants. No judgments.
It's the system I'm angry at and me for not being flexible enough to succeed within it. For saying “Aw, I'm not good with people,” as an excuse not to make connections and undertake some tasks. For saying, “Yo, this is wrong,” or just walking away whenever my employer is lying, stealing, or cheating. If I could just not give a shit about the jobs I do, I think I'd be a bit further ahead than I am now.
I'm high-roading a bit, but I think it's justified. Two years, I've been living with friends and family, putting in about twenty applications and resumes a week. I've gotten maybe a half-dozen interviews. Three of them panned out into short term jobs, but none of them lasted or lead to anything greater.
I have, in retrospect, been pretty conservative. I've let some opportunities pass me by. I wanted something better, but I couldn't tell the people trying to take advantage of my desire for something more from the people trying to help me up.
My family and friends tried to help me and they did a lot of good, but in the end, they couldn't get me where I wanted to go. I wanted to go forward. I wanted to do something worthwhile. I wanted to make it on my own.
And now I'm here.
Robo Hobo Homo #007
So I'm not great with people. That's the “Robo” part of the RoboHoboHomo. Technically, I'm not a hobo either; I'm homeless. Anyway, most of my emotions from moment to moment are selected. I am sexually and romantically interested in men, but it's pretty rare that it comes up. I'm just not a people person.
So I'm not great with phone calls. I never have been. I've tried in the past to submit an application and call companies afterward, but it's always been an awkward, pointless exercise. If a company has too many applications to weed through, they can't surely want each of those applicants to call them. “Hey, I sent you an email.” “Gee, thanks buddy. There's been a pleasant AOL voice telling me that since 1993.”
I never saw the point of it, intellectually or through experience.
But there I was, talking to the co-resident manning Purgatory Shelter's lobby, when he mentioned that he'd gotten a job. I asked him about it and he said he cold-called companies 'til one of them mentioned a job and he took it. He said he didn't take “no” for an answer.
I'm a guy who believes in consent. I believe in respecting other people. I believe that if companies need someone, they need someone and they try to hire the most qualified person based on an application, background check, and an interview. I'm also not very good with people.
So I liked this guy's idea, but I didn't think it was really something I could do.
On the other hand, I came out here because everything I had been doing hadn't been working. Now I'm not great with change or admitting I'm wrong either. So, I picked up the communal phone and called the company that had hired him. The lady at least pretended to check their website and said “No,” and I said “okay,” but it was progress.
So whenever I got through with my .pdf run on Friday, I logged off of the computer, went to the communal phone, and called the company. There, I got a guy named “Doug,” who seemed happy about the call and said he'd be looking it over as soon as he could.
I know it won't do any good, but I'm pretty glad that happened.
So I'm not great with phone calls. I never have been. I've tried in the past to submit an application and call companies afterward, but it's always been an awkward, pointless exercise. If a company has too many applications to weed through, they can't surely want each of those applicants to call them. “Hey, I sent you an email.” “Gee, thanks buddy. There's been a pleasant AOL voice telling me that since 1993.”
I never saw the point of it, intellectually or through experience.
But there I was, talking to the co-resident manning Purgatory Shelter's lobby, when he mentioned that he'd gotten a job. I asked him about it and he said he cold-called companies 'til one of them mentioned a job and he took it. He said he didn't take “no” for an answer.
I'm a guy who believes in consent. I believe in respecting other people. I believe that if companies need someone, they need someone and they try to hire the most qualified person based on an application, background check, and an interview. I'm also not very good with people.
So I liked this guy's idea, but I didn't think it was really something I could do.
On the other hand, I came out here because everything I had been doing hadn't been working. Now I'm not great with change or admitting I'm wrong either. So, I picked up the communal phone and called the company that had hired him. The lady at least pretended to check their website and said “No,” and I said “okay,” but it was progress.
So whenever I got through with my .pdf run on Friday, I logged off of the computer, went to the communal phone, and called the company. There, I got a guy named “Doug,” who seemed happy about the call and said he'd be looking it over as soon as he could.
I know it won't do any good, but I'm pretty glad that happened.
Robo Hobo Homo #006
Friday was when I finally got to see my caseworker, Dennis. It didn't go the way I expected, but things rarely ever do.
I talked a little bit about it earlier. He asked about my Social Security card and when I told him I'd thrown it away, he didn't ask why, he just sighed and moved on, doing what he could with what he had. He had me fill out some paperwork, the hooked me up on a computer they had and left me to it. The day before, I'd hiked for three hours and fucked my laptop over and they had working computers with internet available on site the whole time!
C'est la vie. I was thankful they had them. He shoved a human-to-internet translator at me and vanished to put out another brush fire. After I finished my applications, I wasn't sure what to do next. I wanted to check my email, but then I'm a stickler for rules. I wanted to ask permission, but I couldn't find any of the staff.
I went back and logged onto my email. I hadn't been able to check it since midday Thursday. The eLance bid I put in for had a reply that asked for information I'd included in my initial bid. It also asked for a scan of my passport, which I don't have and even if I did have it, I wouldn't be sending strangers on the internet pictures of it.
The supply supervisor position I put in for had emailed me back. I needed to print out an application, scan it, and send it back in. My laptop wasn't even working, but I had to gain the use of a printer, a scanner, and a USB drive to moves the files around.
Luckily, I'd written messages to my family on a USB drive. I've been keeping it in my pocket inside of two zip-lock bags since Tuesday. I popped it out and headed out. When I went to shelter's front desk, only Bay was there. I asked her if she'd seen Dennis, and I swear to the gods she said, “Dennis isn't here.”
Golden.
Anyway, she hooked me up with the shitty printer they had, plugged my USB into her work computer, and printed it up for me. While I was filling it out, she had to go take care of some stuff at the food bank, so she set me up with another female caseworker, Brandy. After I finished the application, Brandy let me use her computer to scan the file and return it to my USB. I reviewed it and sent it out.
Pretty stock stuff, but remember that this was all happening in the window of just a few hours towards the end of Friday. It had been over a day since the guys hiring had replied to me and I wanted to get back with them as soon as possible. Once Monday rolled around, would a reply be taken as too late? I had no way to know, but getting it in as quickly as possible was all I could do.
I had to get relayed through three people to use a common device I would have had at home. It took me over 24 hours to receive an email, let alone reply to it. That's murderously slow compared to having my own set up in my own comfy house.
I talked a little bit about it earlier. He asked about my Social Security card and when I told him I'd thrown it away, he didn't ask why, he just sighed and moved on, doing what he could with what he had. He had me fill out some paperwork, the hooked me up on a computer they had and left me to it. The day before, I'd hiked for three hours and fucked my laptop over and they had working computers with internet available on site the whole time!
C'est la vie. I was thankful they had them. He shoved a human-to-internet translator at me and vanished to put out another brush fire. After I finished my applications, I wasn't sure what to do next. I wanted to check my email, but then I'm a stickler for rules. I wanted to ask permission, but I couldn't find any of the staff.
I went back and logged onto my email. I hadn't been able to check it since midday Thursday. The eLance bid I put in for had a reply that asked for information I'd included in my initial bid. It also asked for a scan of my passport, which I don't have and even if I did have it, I wouldn't be sending strangers on the internet pictures of it.
The supply supervisor position I put in for had emailed me back. I needed to print out an application, scan it, and send it back in. My laptop wasn't even working, but I had to gain the use of a printer, a scanner, and a USB drive to moves the files around.
Luckily, I'd written messages to my family on a USB drive. I've been keeping it in my pocket inside of two zip-lock bags since Tuesday. I popped it out and headed out. When I went to shelter's front desk, only Bay was there. I asked her if she'd seen Dennis, and I swear to the gods she said, “Dennis isn't here.”
Golden.
Anyway, she hooked me up with the shitty printer they had, plugged my USB into her work computer, and printed it up for me. While I was filling it out, she had to go take care of some stuff at the food bank, so she set me up with another female caseworker, Brandy. After I finished the application, Brandy let me use her computer to scan the file and return it to my USB. I reviewed it and sent it out.
Pretty stock stuff, but remember that this was all happening in the window of just a few hours towards the end of Friday. It had been over a day since the guys hiring had replied to me and I wanted to get back with them as soon as possible. Once Monday rolled around, would a reply be taken as too late? I had no way to know, but getting it in as quickly as possible was all I could do.
I had to get relayed through three people to use a common device I would have had at home. It took me over 24 hours to receive an email, let alone reply to it. That's murderously slow compared to having my own set up in my own comfy house.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Robo Hobo Homo #005
Speaking of razors, that stuff piles up, right? I got soap when I checked in here. In terms of toiletries, I had soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush, some moist toilet paper, and a shovel as my toiletry kit walking in. I was given some soap. A guy named Keils was nice enough to spot me two razors. I had to drop $1.40 for shampoo. Even the little bottles were $1.50, so I ended up getting a full-sized bottle of VO5.
I'm lucky my hair was already cut short, otherwise I'd be walking into every interview a shaggy mess (hey, add “haircut” to the list of things I need money to buy to get a job). My fingernails are a mess and I don't have any nail clippers, but I can rip the excess off myself. They'll grow smoothly in a bit.
It's a lot of little things. When I arrived in town, I didn't know which bus I'd have to take to get to Purgatory Shelter or how far away it was. I hiked for, well, I don't know how long because I don't have a watch or any service for my phone. I hiked across town, then I hiked there and back again the next day to visit the library.
Both days I wore the same clothes and they smelled like hell by the third day. Fortunately, Larry, my bunkmate, spotted me a super-large sweater. With that, I could shower, sign up for a spot to wash my clothes, then freeball in filthy jeans and a super-large sweater while my shirt, undershirt, socks, and underwear washed.
Technically, I was supposed to get a voucher for the local thrift store that would get me some essentials, but I didn't see a case worker until Friday and I couldn't get to the Thrift Store until Saturday. I'm not complaining; it's just that things don't always go the way we expect them to.
I'm very fortunate things have gone as well as they have and to have everything I have.
I'm lucky my hair was already cut short, otherwise I'd be walking into every interview a shaggy mess (hey, add “haircut” to the list of things I need money to buy to get a job). My fingernails are a mess and I don't have any nail clippers, but I can rip the excess off myself. They'll grow smoothly in a bit.
It's a lot of little things. When I arrived in town, I didn't know which bus I'd have to take to get to Purgatory Shelter or how far away it was. I hiked for, well, I don't know how long because I don't have a watch or any service for my phone. I hiked across town, then I hiked there and back again the next day to visit the library.
Both days I wore the same clothes and they smelled like hell by the third day. Fortunately, Larry, my bunkmate, spotted me a super-large sweater. With that, I could shower, sign up for a spot to wash my clothes, then freeball in filthy jeans and a super-large sweater while my shirt, undershirt, socks, and underwear washed.
Technically, I was supposed to get a voucher for the local thrift store that would get me some essentials, but I didn't see a case worker until Friday and I couldn't get to the Thrift Store until Saturday. I'm not complaining; it's just that things don't always go the way we expect them to.
I'm very fortunate things have gone as well as they have and to have everything I have.
Robo Hobo Homo #004
My next day was a bit better. I had that meeting with my caseworker, let's call him Dennis. Dennis is from another country. I'm not sure if it's French or Russian, but my impression is Russian. He's a nice guy, but our meeting was mostly just him filling out paperwork. My attitude doubles as a sign that says “low-maintenance,” so I'm sure he was quick to move on to his harder cases. It makes me feel like a bit of a dick, but he mentioned some of the other stuff he'd been dealing with and it sounded more important than “some unemployed shithead.”
His first priority was getting me signed up for benefits. The state's health care website was fucked, but he wanted me to sign up for it. He shoved in one of my fellow residents, a nervous guy who was apparently some kind of genius. I didn't respond well to being told that I wasn't able to fill out a form or that filling it out was simply a matter of intelligence that I lacked. After a few tense webpages were filled out, he left quietly.
The form reset itself just as I finished it and I started from scratch, discarding much of the advice of my resident helper. I think he's probably a great guy, but we met under bad circumstances. I'll have to apologize pretty soon and see if he's a cool guy.
The health care sign-up page led directly to a Food Stamps sign-up page. I'm from a prideful Southern family. On the other hand, Food Stamps fed me on more than one occasion when I was a kid. My feelings towards them are pretty mixed, but whether I got food from the shelter or from a federal program, I was eating on someone else's dime. Assuming I want to eat while I looked for a job, I went ahead.
I declined the cash option because—even though I currently have $10.60 in my pocket—I was too proud. Like most of the things I have done out of pride, it was a mistake in hindsight. I do need money for shaving cream, razors, bus fare to job interviews, deodorant, and getting copies of paperwork I need to get a job.
Even after I'm out of here, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to pay the cost of living in these parts. In addition to rent and utilities, I'm going to need money for daily transport, laundry, a phone, and internet service. It's a really long road and I should take all of the help I can get if I want to get to one end of it instead of the other.
His first priority was getting me signed up for benefits. The state's health care website was fucked, but he wanted me to sign up for it. He shoved in one of my fellow residents, a nervous guy who was apparently some kind of genius. I didn't respond well to being told that I wasn't able to fill out a form or that filling it out was simply a matter of intelligence that I lacked. After a few tense webpages were filled out, he left quietly.
The form reset itself just as I finished it and I started from scratch, discarding much of the advice of my resident helper. I think he's probably a great guy, but we met under bad circumstances. I'll have to apologize pretty soon and see if he's a cool guy.
The health care sign-up page led directly to a Food Stamps sign-up page. I'm from a prideful Southern family. On the other hand, Food Stamps fed me on more than one occasion when I was a kid. My feelings towards them are pretty mixed, but whether I got food from the shelter or from a federal program, I was eating on someone else's dime. Assuming I want to eat while I looked for a job, I went ahead.
I declined the cash option because—even though I currently have $10.60 in my pocket—I was too proud. Like most of the things I have done out of pride, it was a mistake in hindsight. I do need money for shaving cream, razors, bus fare to job interviews, deodorant, and getting copies of paperwork I need to get a job.
Even after I'm out of here, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to pay the cost of living in these parts. In addition to rent and utilities, I'm going to need money for daily transport, laundry, a phone, and internet service. It's a really long road and I should take all of the help I can get if I want to get to one end of it instead of the other.
Robo Hobo Homo #003
Only about four staff work at Purgatory Shelter. I've seen one of them, had brief conversations with two, and the fourth is my caseworker, who keeps pretty busy himself. They work at a few other places around town, so they aren't exactly here eight hours a day.
On my first day, I was informed pretty quickly that I might not get a meeting with a caseworker the day after checking in, as the paper I'd been assigned directed. Purgatory Shelter was really built for beds, showers, and a dining area. It's a very nice shelter. I don't know from shelters, but I can tell it's really good. There's no internet access and it's far from the center of town though.
I could either wait for the possibility of an interview with a caseworker or I could hoof it to the library. It was two bus rides to the library and another two back. That was either four rides at $1 each or one $3 all-day bus pass. With only $15 in my pocket, I opted to hoof it to the library, time the walk, and get as much done as I could before I had to get back in time for dinner.
I forgot that this area was known for its cloudy skies. My first five days here were all sunny and pleasant. Personally, I prefer overcast weather. “Duck weather,” they used to call it on the boat. It was a hot and sunny ninety minutes on foot to the library. I stayed for about three hours, put in applications, and packed up my computer for the hike back. I got to explore the town a little bit, but I'll go on about that later.
When I got back, my computer had been sleeping but not off. It had sat, sealed in my backpack as I sweated through the heat and sun for ninety minutes. The damage was so bad I'm typing this on Word Pad in safe mode. I'm pretty sure the problem is physical, but I can't complete virus scans with Malware Bytes, Windows Defender, or Microsoft Security Essentials, so I can't say. The computer even tried an automated disk scanning thing during startup that froze up just like the rest.
I'm lucky to have a computer at all right now.
On my first day, I was informed pretty quickly that I might not get a meeting with a caseworker the day after checking in, as the paper I'd been assigned directed. Purgatory Shelter was really built for beds, showers, and a dining area. It's a very nice shelter. I don't know from shelters, but I can tell it's really good. There's no internet access and it's far from the center of town though.
I could either wait for the possibility of an interview with a caseworker or I could hoof it to the library. It was two bus rides to the library and another two back. That was either four rides at $1 each or one $3 all-day bus pass. With only $15 in my pocket, I opted to hoof it to the library, time the walk, and get as much done as I could before I had to get back in time for dinner.
I forgot that this area was known for its cloudy skies. My first five days here were all sunny and pleasant. Personally, I prefer overcast weather. “Duck weather,” they used to call it on the boat. It was a hot and sunny ninety minutes on foot to the library. I stayed for about three hours, put in applications, and packed up my computer for the hike back. I got to explore the town a little bit, but I'll go on about that later.
When I got back, my computer had been sleeping but not off. It had sat, sealed in my backpack as I sweated through the heat and sun for ninety minutes. The damage was so bad I'm typing this on Word Pad in safe mode. I'm pretty sure the problem is physical, but I can't complete virus scans with Malware Bytes, Windows Defender, or Microsoft Security Essentials, so I can't say. The computer even tried an automated disk scanning thing during startup that froze up just like the rest.
I'm lucky to have a computer at all right now.
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