We all have firsts. I wobbled my first steps, rode my first bike, stole my first kiss. I still keep my first glasses in a drawer somewhere. If I cleaned my office and found them, that would be a first too.
Yup, we all have firsts. If we like them enough we move onto seconds. That kissing thing, I returned for multiple servings on that until they kicked me out and closed the Lip Diner— even now I still hang outside for scraps.
“I would gladly pay you Tuesday for a little lip lock today…”
Some of us continue with our firsts later in life. This week I made my first visit to the unemployment office. I’d never done that before. It was my first visit. I think I liked the kissing better.
“Do you need me to hold your hand?” Asks the Pirate Queen. She’s not talking about kissing. She’s just being sarcastic. I’d love to tell you that she learned that form me, but no, she came with that already in her baggage o’ tricks. She likes that trick as much as she likes pulling out a rabbit – so to speak.
“No, I’ve got this,” I lied. I didn’t have it. I’d never filed for unemployment before. What’s more, I’d already tried and failed to do it online. Yeah, I felt like that guy who spends $50 for Nordstrom’s lip-gloss because he can’t figure out how to spend $2.99 on Amazon.com. I’m so proud. Whatever. I may not have a job, but at least my lips taste strawberry fresh.
I figured unemployment couldn’t be any tougher than falling off my lucky leprechaun, or his bicycle for that matter. I figured I would save time, save a tree, and save a trip. I would apply online. How hard could an online form be? It has to be accessible for people who can’t cook fries. I can cook fries. I’ve held a job for 10 years. I can do this.
No I can’t. I failed. If I were a fry cook, I’d be the guy with the extra-crispy handshake.
“Mmmm, what smells so tasty?”
“My hand. Can I have a job?”
“What happened to your hand?”
“I got it caught in the fryer basket. I wasn’t looking for a hand out, just a hand up.”
‘Security!”
Yeah, I’m used to that. I’m finding that job hunting is like dating: I never get to do either without coming off a little crazed. The bad part is I’m not even looking for a job yet. I’m just looking for unemployment. This is like my first glance at the girl behind the cosmetics counter. We aren’t at dating yet. Right now I’m looking at my monitor; there’s a question I can’t answer. They want to know my “Total wages?”
I told you it was like a date.
I know, sounds simple. Coming from the Biblical school of thought I typed “Death.” An error message explained that they were looking for a number. I shrugged.
See, here’s the problem. The previous question had asked how long I’d worked for my previous employer. Previously, I’d typed in “10 years.” Now they want “total wages.” Do they really want 10 years of total wages? That seems ridiculous. I email MyEx.
“What are my total wages?”
She emailed back, “Death.” Yeah, she attended a biblical school too, either that or it’s wishful thinking. I decided on the former. I explained my problem to her, and she suggested that they were only asking for 18 months worth of history.
Wha? 18 months? I’m lost. What’s that smell? Why do I feel like my hand is burning? I try to explain, “Well if they were asking for 18 months, why did they just ask how long I’d been at my last job, and followed that with a total wages question.”
She never emailed me back. I know she’s being kind. She’s refraining from calling me an idiot. It’s ok. This isn’t my first apple bob at the fry vat. It’s just my first unemployment form.
I looked to the form for help. They didn’t offer any -- not on the total wages anyway. Oh they did offer documented open windows of help on “Previous employer.” I felt like I’d closed that door. I’m still quite familiar with who kicked me to the curb, thank you very much.
“Screw this!” I decided I’d grind my axe on a tree; I’d drive to the Unemployment Office and fill out a paper form. I could ask questions there.
“We can’t answer your questions,” says the smiling woman at the desk.
“Uhm, why?”
“We don’t work for EDD [Employment Development Department] directly. We just keep the office.”
“Can I have your job?”
“Can you run a fry vat?”
“So where do I fill out the unemployment form?”
This is where Gal Smiley points me to the computer lab.
“That’s the same form I could do on my home computer, right?”
“Right, but you’re here.”
“Uh, huh.”
“So go ahead and do it here.”
How can I argue with that logic? I try. “But I have questions.”
“Everybody does.”
“And how do others get them answered?”
“The lab tech has some answers. They’re just not official EDD answers. He also serves up fries in his spare time. Everybody likes fries.”
“Well, yeah!” I was hungry.
I swallow my pride and take my chances. Maybe somebody in the lab can answer my questions. Maybe it’s the guy at the computer next to me staring at a blank screen. He does take an interest when I type my social security number into the online form. He’s practically in my lap, ready to kiss me.
I’m easy. I want answers. I try, “I’ll write it on a scrap of paper for you if you answer this riddle for me: what are my total ages?”
“Death.”
It sounds more ominous from him than from MyEx. I hail a friendly fry attendant.
“What do you want?”
“Uhm, can I get a plate of the wedge fries? Oh, and what are my total wages? I mean do they want my 10 year total?”
“No, the wages are tied to this question here, “ He points to the next question that asks me how frequently I get paid. He explains that it’s not so much about how frequency I was paid, but how long it would take me to earn the total I put in the “total wages” column. He also says he’s out of fries.
Great…
At least I have my answer. I fill out the form, press enter only to see a familiar phrase: “We can not process your application at this time.” I’m done. I can get rejected at home. I shut the computer off so that nobody can copy my information, before asking the guy to stop writing and remove his notebook from my back so that I can stand up.
That’s right. I failed at the Unemployment office too. That’s fine. I’ll go home. I now have my answers. I can get it right next time. That’s the thing I’m finding out about firsts. Unless they’re a kiss, they usually don’t happen by happy accident. Firsts come through persistence. I have plenty of that. It may not get me a job as a fry chef, but it will get me where I need to go. It’ll get me my next job doing what I want to do.
That will get me through this.
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