Good news is that we found a place. That’s exactly what it is too, a
place. Inexpensive (
will cost a fortune to heat). Takes pets. Pleasant landlord was so relieved to get the place rented that he didn’t ask a lot of questions. It’s in Freeville, very close to central Ithaca. Half a house.
I see it as The Transition. I gave the pleasant landlord my word of honor that we would stay at least until summer to give him a better shot at rerenting. It’s not a very
attractive place. I believe the word Ben would use to describe it is “utilitarian.”
I’m relieved to have it though. Job search is impossible without a local address.
On Monday we’d all loaded up in the car – by “all” I mean Ben, RTT, myself, the two dogs and the turtle (leaving the cat to fend for herself with Friskies and water) – and cruised on up from Edinboro (just outside Erie) to Ithaca. If the Joads had driven a red VW bug, that’s what we would have looked like. Goal was to look at houses and for me to sign up with temp agencies.
Signing up with temp agencies was certainly an exercise in humility. Leslie at Kelly clearly hated her job and did my intake with the snarling indifference an SS officer might show a new Auschwitz recruit. I had to take a bunch of computer tests – I am merely “basic” at MS Word (which shocked me) but I’m “intermediate” at Excel (at which I’m actually pretty mediocre.) When Leslie announced she was giving me a typing test, my hands started to flutter – not shake, but actual palsy.
Why are you so fucking nervous? I chided myself.
Like who fucking cares about this? But I couldn’t help it. Overweight Leslie with her bright red lipstick and her shapeless black sweater dress held me in such obvious scorn that I felt like a non-person. I was only able to type 38 words per minute; I usually type 55.
The people at Manpower were much, much nicer, did an actual
interview at the end of which the branch manager gave me two post-its. “We don’t have anything here that’s a match for your skills, I’m afraid,” she said. “I mean I’m
not going to send you out on an assignment as a temporary dishwasher in the Cornell dormitory. I
am going to forward your resume to our professional division – they do more headhunter, executive recruiting kind of stuff. And
this is the name of an associate of mine who owns a digital advertising boutique – it seems most of your work experience has been Internet-related, so that’s really where you should be looking. Call her up, use my name –
talk to her, she may have some leads or advice. And here’s the address of Ithaca’s Chamber of Commerce – they have their fingers in a lot of pies, they may be able to help you as well.”
“This is awfully kind of you,” I stammered, taking the post-it’s.”
She smiled gently. “Hey! It’s
my job. Good luck.”
###Ben and Robin had been waiting for me all this time in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I didn’t understand why they couldn’t have waited for me in the wonderful Tomkins County Public Library or one of Ithaca’s many pleasant parks (where the dogs could have had some fun) or even in a coffee house, but no, Ben was determined to have the full-press Untouchable (Indian caste, not Elliott Ness) experience.
Yes, Ithaca has a Walmart now. I was shocked. And more than a little appalled. If
Ithaca let Walmart in, then there’s no stopping it. All small business owners should simply buy a gun and shoot themselves in the head right now – there’s no sense in their leaving an even
bigger carbon footprint if their economic value is
nil, right?
We sought lodging for the night in the seedy little village of Watkins Glen. For years Watkins Glen was famous as the Mecca of Grande Prix racing in America but with the rise of Nascar, nobody actually
cares about Grande Prix racing anymore, and the Glen’s makeover into Finger Lakes’ wine region capitol has not been a raging success. Naturally we picked the oldest and most dilapidated of all the motel options available to us – a rotting Georgian mansion fronting a sleazy motor court. But we lucked out! The oddly congenial Mr. Lin, an Oriental gentleman who looked to be in his late seventies and was absolutely delighted to see us, ran the place. We were probably the first paying customers he’d had in many days. And he lo-o-o-oved doggies! “You have dog, yes?
Two dog? I knock five dorrar off price!”
Wait a minute, I thought.
Shouldn’t you be a Patel? But, hey! Don’t count a gift horse’s fillings etc, etc. The room was cheap, warm, had a serviceable shower, high-speed Internet and a television that picked up Turner Classic Movies. At 3am when I woke up – insomnia has returned, alas! –
Il Conformista was playing, one of my favorite movies of all times. I wept as though for the very first time when I saw Dominique Sanda assassinated even though I’d seen her assassinated at least forty times before – after all, thirty-nine of those times had been thirty years ago.
###Bad news is that as soon as we got back to the RV and Edinboro, Ben fell horribly ill. I'm hoping it's not the flu -- he's feverish, coughing, has a sinus headache that's spread into his neck. No way he's going to be able to drive the RV two-hundred and fifty miles today on a merry little odyssey of relocation. So I am driving up to Freeville alone to do the paperwork and hand over the money to the landlord. B's brother Lew kindly loaned me an air mattress and a sleeping bag in case I don't want to immediately turn around and make the 250 mile drive back. We shall see... It's always something.
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