NOTES FROM THE CENSUS BUREAU
by THOMAS VACCA

California correspondent Tom Vacca reports on applying for and subsequently getting a job quizzing tardy scalawags for the Federal Census 2000.

INTRODUCTION- briefly describe the job and its "importance". Describe that I applied for this position over 15 months ago. The appeal of the 50% pay hike over anything I’d seen previously.

TRAINING- Describe impressions of both the training and the others in my group. Ron McDonnelly is just too good to pass up. I have to use his real name. I think that for everybody else a pseudonymn is fine.

FIELD WORK- Since this hasn’t begun yet, I can only hope that it goes down.

Well, now it’s afternoon and I still haven’t gotten the call. Damnit. This is really starting to suck. It’s almost enough to make me wanna go out and get a fucking job.

later the job is his...

Today is may_10th and the weather has taken its toll on everyone. While I was in line for my 15 minute interview with Ronald, he had a vein-popping screaming match over the J200 form that he borrowed and (as he insisted) had returned.

THE BADGE! An awesome shot of power. I tried to confiscate inappropriate things such as the wheatgrass machine and my friend's truck. But everyone seemed oddly unimpressed with my new tin horn. That’s okay, I’ll just start a file on them.

It felt really cool to be walking around with a fed badge like I was some sort of G-man. When I begin my field work perhaps I’ll be like the Men in Black with Ray-Bans and a pimp black suit. Maybe I’ll carry the book of Mormon too.

They made me take an oath which was particularly inane but still a nice dose of patriotism. We were given the latitude (which I employed) to refrain from beseeching God. Something along the lines of "Lord God almighty help me count them immigrants a-hidin'."

Thanks to the government, I got paid $8 to walk to and from work -- a jolly and pleasant round trip of 15 minutes. Naturally, I was impressed with the colossal waste of the entire project. At one point they had four instructors pouring over our files, making sure we hadn’t slashed any sevens or written anything in lower case on our various forms that we filled out. Oh yes, that brings me to the forms. The work, at least in theory, is simplicity itself. I should amend that -- in terms of where to go and when, it all seems to add up. What was difficult was sifting through all those damn forms, pamphlets and work books/manuals. "Open your D-186.22 LRUR... it’s the yellow one... now look at appendix E in your enumerators manual" God, it was ceaseless. Hearing all that double-talk made me think of a couple things: the book 1984 -- which I never read, but did see a bitchin movie of -- and Catch 22 which I did read, but haven’t seen the movie of.

THE PLAYERS:

Ron P. Donnelly. Our field commander. In my mind's eye I was seeing some mad hybrid of a man and Ronald McDonald. Ronald McDonally, or something like that. The visuals were only of that demented clown. His smiling visage is burned into my head like a cattle brand. The actual man falls somewhat short of that cultural icon -- bearing instead an ever-increasing bald spot and either a toothpick (indoors) or a cigarette (outdoors) wedged into his vampyric mouth. I was glad to discover he was a smoker because I knew right away we’d get frequent breaks. Boy, was I right.

Leo. Older gentleman, retired and as ornery and methodical as they come. Former Gov’t employee, and an overly-proud vet to boot. He harkens back to cheesiness of the 50’s wherein "you get that information, fellah." He woldn’t shut up -- zany questions about some minor point in procedure, or uncalled-for guffaws at the bland names in the manual examples. I guess I didn’t like him too much. At one point while discussing charging the gov’t for mileage, I meekly asked if I would be reimbursed if I rode a bike instead of using my car. This was flatly denied. Good to know the gov’t doesn’t support programs like that. In any case, Leo collars me at lunch and strongly asserts "Don’t tell the government anything more than the bare minimum. Ride yer bike and charge them for it. It’s none of their damn business anyway..." I ducked him by going into a coffee shop and feigning interest in the message board. After lunch, Leo insisted that everbody from Central and South America as well as Italians could all be listed as "Latinos". His spirit of efficeincy and no-nonsense is a dying breed in today's world of PC consideration. As a SNAG (Sensitive New Age Guy) all I can say to that is.... ehhh.

Maybe I’ll call him Leo Olean.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow and the insanity it will bring. We’re watching a film first thing,

Maybe the whole thing should be called Stop Taking Cens(us). I could open with a new set of lyrics set to Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads...

can’t seem to face up to the facts/ can’t seem nervous, can’t relax/ can’t sleep, bed’s on fire/ don’t shoot me, I’m a temp hire.

YEAH!!

Hmmm, how typical -- as WB would say. Typical gov’t streamlined efficiency. After training Wednesday through Friday, we were supposed to hit the bricks Saturday. Naturally, we haven’t been provided with the essential binders containing the names and address of the folks were supposed to touch up for thier vital information. That bears a little more impact when I point out that today is Monday near noon. I’ve already lost about 60 bucks to those fucks. All I can really do is sit by the phone and wait for it to ring. Thank god I’ve got an ample supply of coffee and cigarettes. Let’s see...

STOP TAKING CENS(US)
(set to the tune of Psycho Killer)
By Les Kyboy

reporting from Leisureland in the county of S .

Can’t seem to face up to the facts.
Can’t seem nervous, can’t relax.
Can’t sleep, bed’s on fire.
Don’t shoot me, I’m just a temp hire.

Yep, that looks like a pretty good start. I think I’ll work it like this:

Tom: "Ron, these fucking gov’t 2 2/4 pencils suck ass. The lead is super brittle and the eraser doesn’t stay put!"

Ron: "You are authorized to use these other old fashioned pencils as well."

My first on-the-road interview: A bug-eyed, werewolf of a man answers the door wearing a "Communism stops here" t-shirt.

Last night, I watched "Silence of the Lambs" with my girlfriend. I’d not retained something Hannibal Lecther said: "A man from the Census tried to make me take a test. I ate his liver with fava beans and a nice Chi-anti. Fffff fffthp ffff!"

"Well," she said "you’re a stoned fool, son."

A dad burn fool to boot.

 

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