Aluminum Kept the Check from Bouncing

I didn’t receive an unemployment payment this week.  A few weeks ago, I filled out a form and was notified I’d been approved for an extension.  And then, even though I still had money left on my old claim to keep me going into January, I was given the same form to fill out again.  Then after that I learned I could file this upcoming Sunday, but with no guarantee that I’ll receive a deposit.  Was this supposed to be some sort of waiting week period?  Did I answer a question wrong?  Was this all some sort a data base hiccup?

I had helped a person in their home office for a few hours this week and expected to get a check for $90 when I saw him on Friday.  But there was a family emergency, and I won’t see him until Monday.

The thing is I thought my checking account was still hunky-dory.  In fact, on Thursday when I wrote checks for the phone and water bills I paid extra, so when I got around to balancing the checkbook doing the subtraction would be easier.

On Friday, I shopped for my family ornament exchange.  I used my bank card to purchase an angel ornament for my sister and a little snowman and Santa for myself.  Then I withdrew $60 from the ATM and found a glass bell ornament for my mom.  I also bought a venti coffee frapaccino and a Pick4 ticket for myself.

However, when I got home and started to balance my checkbook and see how close to zero I was getting, I learned that–with the mailed, not-yet-cleared checks–my checking account ended up being about forty-six dollars overdrawn.

Well, of course, the first thing I did was check and see if my Pick4 ticket was a winner.  Nope, it wasn’t.  Darn you, cute little snowman and Santa, even though you were 20% off.  Darn you, venti coffee frapaccino.

I had $41 dollars left over from my ATM withdrawal.  But where to get the other five dollars and some odd cents?  I dumped my penny jar, found dimes and quarters around the house in places like my laundry basket and on top of the refrigerator, but was still short.

Thank goodness, I recycle.  In fact, when I come across aluminum cans in parking lots I put them in a bag in my car trunk.  People toss beer cans into my yard.  I add those to the bag as well.  The bag wasn’t anywhere close to halfway full, but on the way to the bank this morning I stopped by the scrap yard and received $1.35 for basically collecting other people’s litter.

Once the phone and water bills clear on Monday, I’ll have a total of 91 cents still left in my checking account.  The lesson: it pays to recycle.  (Also: don’t put off balancing your checkbook)  Next time you’re driving and see aluminum cans on the ground, remember it’s the same as spotting loose change.  It adds up over time.  Or, in this case, at 45 cents a pound.

I’ve needed to get some exercise.  Parking my car and walking around short distances and picking up cans could be a way to burn calories and earn some quick change.  If one can is worth 2 cents then on the way to the bank and back home this morning I saw at least thirty cents lying along the streets.

Gov-ARGHH!-ment and Lot-ARGHH!-ries

This hasn’t been a good week.

 

Come to think of it: it hasn’t been much a month.

 

For days I’ve heard mice nibbling on poison pouches around the house as if they were trick-or-treat candy.  I fell asleep on the floor last Sunday while watching television and when I woke up I saw one dart underneath the standing bookshelves.

 

 

(Sometimes I wonder if mice look at us and think, “If I were bigger, I’d totally eat a person.  No, first I’d eat a cat and then eat a person.”   Or maybe they wonder if we taste like cheese or peanut butter.  Anyway…)

 

 

And currently I only have $3.01 in my checking account and a dollar bill in my wallet.

 

For the last two weeks my unemployment payments have been withheld.

 

At first, I was puzzled by this.  The federal government had bailed out the banks, so the state should have had money to dispense.  And I was sure I filled out the weekly form correctly.

 

I had run into this problem weeks earlier when the state’s computer had lumped me in with all the other coworkers who hadn’t been laid off before.  And I tried informing one of the listed contacts that I had already been through the orientation in January, especially since there was a part in the message about how not attending the meeting at the end of the month could affect your unemployment benefits.  “Well, if you want to take your chances and risk losing your benefits, be my guest!”

 

She was actually that snarky and rude.

 

Fortunately, I have what Ms. Nasty didn’t.  By that I mean tact.  I patiently explained that I had already attended the mandatory meeting when I had been laid off in January.

 

“You sat through a PowerPoint presentation?” she asked.

 

Yes, and I explained what was on the PowerPoint presentation, especially the HCTC instructions, which I had signed up for.  Well, “PowerPoint” and “HCTC” seemed to have been the magic words because the tiny wisps of venom seemed to stop spraying from the phone earpiece; and she told me, no, that I didn’t have to attend.  Then I asked if she needed my name to cross me off a list, but she said no. Maybe she should have.

 

No notices in my unemployment e-account.  So I called my unemployment rep at the transition center to see if she might know what the problem was, or give me the number of a department I could call.

 

So I called and gave my name and said, “I wanted to know—”

 

“You will have to SPEAK UP if you want me to help you!” she interrupted, curtly.  So I did and told her about the payment delays and asked if she knew what might be the reason behind it, or a number I could call.

 

I expected to hear keyboard keys clicking away and questions for me to answer.  But, no, just silence.  It can’t be that she didn’t hear me.  I asked aloud if it might be a computer error caused when my old company recalled and then later laid me off again weeks later.

 

However, instead of helping me, she immediately started denying she was a TAA/TRA rep even though that’s what it said on the card she had given me back in February.  But by then I remembered what she was like back when I was getting my WIA training forms and unemployment benefits sorted out in February.

 

What I’ve learned about local level unemployment reps is that they don’t want to stick out their necks.  They’re not career counselors.  Sure, the state calls what they offer a “retraining process”  or “employment transition”, but honestly, unemployment reps just want to process you.  Basically, the top priority of an unemployment rep is keeping their ass covered while sending yours on its way.  They want to get you in and out of their offices and onto the next job so they don’t have to see your unemployed, government-benefit-gobbling rear end again.

  

Behind the evasiveness and convenient memory loss is a government employee who is weighing the cons of getting involved in your dilemma.  After all, if in any way the government is to blame, helping you is admitting the government, their boss, is at fault.

  

So first I had to pry open Ms. Forgetful’s escape hatch of denial before she had a chance to jettison on me.  I mentioned things from January and February to convince her that, yes; she had been my unemployment rep, while at the same time reassuring her that this was some minor data base error, not hers.  If she knew a number at the state level I could call, then I would be on my way.

 

“I wouldn’t want to give you a number and spend the whole day calling offices and not getting anywhere,” she said, trepidation in her voice.  She was just worried about my inquiry coming back on her somehow.

 

Oh, but not calling anyone is going to–what?–let this knot of red tape untangle itself?   Seriously, her instinct for self-preservation was astounding. So I asked again.  I needed the number to ask a question.  Not complain, but to get an “understanding” about what was holding up my payments.

 

You’d think I was asking for her great granny’s credit card numbers, but eventually I got the number.   And, lo and behold, when I called the person on the other end of the phone asked me a few questions and, presto, I had an answer.  It seems the notice I received weeks ago saying I had the “option” of filing for an unemployment benefit extension, although it could possibly cut into my TRA benefits, wasn’t optional, but mandatory.

 

Then I was given another number to call so I could provide the needed information.  This woman seemed very upset that I didn’t want to enter the information over the internet.  She gave a sigh like I had made her spill food in her lap.  Anyway, hopefully that took care of the problem.

  

So I filled out the weekly form Sunday, and Monday there was another form to fill out to verify I was a student, which will be put “under review”.  Whatever.  Seriously.  Can I just have my money?

 

And now it’s Friday and still no cash.  I’m hoping this is a programming thing, like the government computer waits until the end of Saturday to determine any and all information that came in after Sunday.

 

For now I’ve been using my credit card for groceries and lattes.  What I know is that I need to mail my mortgage and credit card payment by Wednesday, or I’ll be in trouble.

 

I wouldn’t have had to use the credit card though.  Occasionally, I play the Pick4 game.  Always the same number in combo.  I had a feeling to play, but then I only had four dollars in my wallet, and I’d need to hang onto the money.  And what happened?  The numbers came up, that’s what!  It wasn’t the straight combo because then I would have really been steamed about not getting $5,000.  This was a least $50, which is slightly more than I’ve charged.

 

But the way this month has been going, if I had bought a ticket a mouse would’ve probably gotten hold of it and chewed it up.

Laid off, with feeling….and gift carbs, not gift cards.

Someone from first shift left this and a few other signs for us second shifters.  Yeah, might want to keep those cardboard resumes around for yourself, buddy.  The factory will be on shut down for the entire month of December, and word is that production will stop for good by February.

The last week started out as a grind, but we were well fed the last two nights.  Thursday, at the beginning of the shift, the company had bagel and muffin platters set out in the breakrooms.  Then later they extended lunch by thirty minutes and treated everyone to a catered supper.  Tonight one of the departments had a pitch-in dinner, and there was so much food that they invited anyone to help finish off the leftover pizza and desserts.

In the middle of first round production, the plant manager stopped the line and gathered us together and told us what a good crew we were and how much our efforts were appreciated.  Because of our solid quality record, the factory had a better chance than others around the country of eventually producing another company product.

It was a nice gesture, but none of us are holding out hope for a return of second shift.   And then again, that’s why he gave his speech: because he knows he’ll never see us again.

And, likewise, that’s why suddenly these last couple days I’ve heard compliments and gotten hugs from coworkers that I’ve really only known casually.  And also why more people than I would imagine wanted to take my picture.  One woman wanted to make sure I smiled when she took my picture because I had, according to her, ”the most innocent smile she’d ever seen on a man.”

“Doesn’t Torgoman have a great smile?” she told the other women around her.  “It’s the dimples,” another woman said.  Then they all took so many pictures I had spots in my eyes afterward.  Apparently, my dimples had for years made an impression in the workplace that I was not aware of.

It’s not that I’m complaining, but this was way different than my first lay off exit in January.

I actually believe I’ll see some of them at school in a few weeks, enrolled in healthcare classes and transitioning into new careers.  

How they’ll manage to get by with less income is another question.  Last night a woman learned that the repo man was in the parking lot trying reclaim her car.  She immediately ran off the line, got into her car and refused to get out.  Eventually, after four police officers arrived, she gave up.   But it took them nearly an hour to convince her.

As for me, I’m relieved.  I’ll miss you, Mr. Five Hundred Dollar Plus Paycheck; but it’s time to say goodbye, for good.

Sleep and work while I can

My last class of the term was Thursday.  Now I have two weeks to sleep, clean up around the house, and tend to my garden.  But most of all I want to get as much sleep as possible.  I’m so tired that if I could eat sleep, I would.

Working full time at the factory second shift and being a full time daytime student only allows me to catch three or two-hour naps at a time during the weekdays.  If I’m lucky I’ll get five or six hours rest combined, but some days these last few weeks I’ve been operating on just two hours of sleep, cheap caffeine and Pop-Tart sugar.  I’ve managed to get by, but when Saturday comes around my body crashes like a cheap PC.  Even when I’ve set my alarm with the intention of waking up on those Saturday mornings just long enough to buy fresh vegetables and bagels at the Second Street Market, my body won’t have any of it.  

I wonder how single parents manage.

This lack of time is why I’m still bummed about my ethics paper.  I got an A and the teacher told me I did a great job.  Yet I caught two typos she didn’t.   If I’d gotten an A- or B+ I would’ve understood.  It was good, but I knew where it could’ve been more concise.  I sound like a perfectionist that’s never satisfied, and that’s partially true; but mostly I hated how long it took me to write a five page paper.  I ran out of time.  I was up all night and literally working on it up until the last possible minute.  And I knew if only had only one more evening I could’ve edited away all the problems that bothered me.  I also wanted to do a good job because I loved that ethics class and how the professor taught it.  This was the first course I’ve taken that seemed like a college course, and I wanted to meet those college standards.

I have to make it through September.  That’s when the factory will close second shift for good.  But, heck, first shift will be shut down through the entire month of December.  Rumor is that first shift and the plant will be closing for good in February, about a year earlier than originally planned.

In a way a plant closing is like learning that a longterm relationship is ending for good.  There will never be a reconciliation.  If a layoff is a seperation then this is a divorce.

As for me, I’m ready for it.  Me and the factory?  We’ve grown apart.  I’ve accepted it.  When I say I’ll miss the money but I’m ready for a change, it’s like saying I’ll miss the sex but it’s time to move on. 

But other breakups are messy, and some coworkers are acting out their frustrations.  They loudly trash talk the factory in the breakroom.  They don’t show up for work.  The company doesn’t care, so why should they? 

Messy breakups sweep up bystanders like me into their drama, whether I want to or not.  So I lend a sympathetic ear.  I cover for the absentees.  I just have to make it through September.

Working ow-ers

I made it through the week, but right now my body is one big, exhausted ouch.  I’ve woken up with my hands stiff and swollen and feeling like baseball mitts from pulling and squeezing upholstery clips shut. 

Sure, part of this soreness is from being away for five months, but some of it has to do with the fact that in my absence the company has eliminated more job stations and distributed those tasks to the remaining ones.  So at most stations I’m expected to do one and a half the amount of work I used to do in the same amount of time.

And three of those days I had class plus work (with overtime), and on each of those days I got a total of three hours sleep.  That meant sleep two hours, wake up, go to school, come home, catch a nap for a quick hour and then go back to work.

Fortunately the plant will be shut down for the next two weeks; but for evening shift, my shift, the break will be three weeks.  That gives me time to work ahead on my reading assignments and finish an ethics paper.

On Friday someone mentioned to me that he believed we’ll be employed through the rest of the year, but I’d be surprised if I’m around by the end of August what with truck and SUV sales free falling.  I didn’t tell him that because I know when he was laid off he had no desire for retraining and went through want ad hell before he was recalled.  But most people I’ve spoken with expect to be laid off in the near future and are already looking into available training programs.

It’s the inevitability of losing my job again that makes this so odd, like a bizzarre waiting game of musical chairs.  But in this case the seats are moving, not the players.  Most workers expect there to be fewer chairs and just want the music to stop so we can finally move on for good.

oh, crap. i’ve been called back to work.

I was out all day Friday.  I didn’t even notice my answering machine light blinking until an hour after I got home.  It was my former employer saying I’d been recalled from layoff.  They’d left the message at twelve-thirty and wanted me to report for the four o’clock evening shift. If not then, there’d be a Saturday shift; but I had to call back and let them know if I planned to return or not.  It was already four hours too late to work Friday (whew!), but I called back and left a message with human resources that I’d be there on Saturday.

Ever hesitate or dread making a phone call, especially since it’s one you assumed you wouldn’t need to make in the first place? Sort of like having to call the IRS and let them know that you got their message about wanting to schedule your audit.

It doesn’t matter that I’m going to school fulltime. According to state law, I must accept job offers from my old company if I’m unemployed.  Otherwise, I forfeit my benefits.

So I showed up Saturday evening and almost everyone did a double take.  Even the department supervisor wasn’t expecting me.  People asked me how long I’d be around. One day? One week? Longer? Funny, I’d hoped they’d be the ones to clue me in on that. I felt kind of bad because they were so happy to see me and I secretly didn’t want to be there.

It seems over the last three months, they’ve slowly been recalling a few people at a time to replace workers who’ve either been fired or quit or found other employment during the thirteen week auto parts strike that shut down the main plant.

My guess is that I’m working this next week before summer shutdown begins.  They’ve scheduled additional overtime for this coming week and might need extra help to guarantee there’s enough people to finish production just in case someone calls in or wants to start their vacation early. That could explain why I was recalled three and half hours before Friday’s shift was to begin.

But I could be there for the next couple months, although that’s a stretch. July and August are typically the heaviest production months for building up the dealerships’ new year inventory. But high gas prices have hobbled the SUV and truck markets. I don’t see the main plant or the company running a two shift production schedule longer than that.

Everyone I asked said they haven’t heard anything about what the main plant or the company’s plans are. They wouldn’t even speculate, which is strange. There’s two things I expect to be produced from an assembly line workplace during tough economic times, and one of them are rumors.

If I work only one week, along with scheduled overtime, I can easily pay off my home insurance for the year. That paycheck will be almost double what I’d normally make on unemployment. If I work July and August I’ll be able to pay off what I charged for the tree trimming and then some much sooner than I expected. But right now not even money seems enough to get me over this disappointment.

Can I be a fulltime student and a fulltime worker and get at least a minimum amount of shuteye time? Three hours sleep.  Go to school.  Three hours sleep.  Go to work.  Yeah, if I’m lucky. I’ll have to work ahead like crazy during the two week shut down to get my ethics paper finished. I almost feel I’m being punished for how I dillydallied a couple weeks ago, watching too much MSNBC and playing computer mahjonng before I’d open my textbooks.

Got it.

Whoa.

Not only did I get the government funding which will allow me to attend school for the next two years, but the government will also pay me eight dollars for every day I attend class (which adds up to sixteen dollars a week) for gas money so I can afford to drive to school.  And then when I graduate I’ll get a fifty dollar reward for finding a job and then another reward for keeping that job for six months and then another one for staying on that job for a year. 

The gas money reimbursement I can understand and appreciate, but the employment reward is just too odd.  I asked my case worker, “Shouldn’t a paycheck be enough insentive to find and keep a job?”  She agreed but said the government is willing to pay it so why should I argue.

I thanked her for all her help.  She and my other case worker really fought hard to get my funding approved.  It seems there were people on the board who noted my English degree and thought my only training option should be teaching.

I will miss seeing my case worker though because she was seriously cute and spoke with just a hint of a lisp, which I found appealing, and helped me pay attention to what she was saying.

Chasing paper and dreaming of meat.

Last night I dreamed I was at the Fairfield Mall food court and out in the open was a meat counter and the butcher, who was a woman, started handing me large pieces of meat.  Real choice cuts.  I remember holding this rack of beef and also a whole body of lamb.  It wasn’t bloody or messy.  I looked down into the cavity of the carcass and recognized this was fresh quality meat; but I wondered where I would be able to store it and if I had the know-how to cook it properly.  I didn’t want all this free food going to waste.  (Also during the meat giveaway there was some mention about the butcher being a lesbian and having problems with her girlfriend.)

I spent the day at home arranging books on my new bookshelves and straightening up around the house while waiting for an important phone call.   Yesterday I stopped by the Transition Center and dropped off what should be the last of the necessary paperwork needed to determine if the state will fund my career training and extend my unemployment benefits while I attend classes.  My case was supposed to be voted on today, but I guess I won’t hear about the outcome until Monday.  

Anyway, I came across an old book about dream symbolism and looked to see if anything listed matched any part of my dream.   I didn’t find anything about raw meat, but according to the book a sheep represents non-thinking innocent trust and giving responsibility for oneself to others.  Sheep can also represent developing awareness of the higher self within.  Food symbolizes physical, mental, emotional or spiritual nourishment.  A butcher symbolizes aggression or chopping up the self into parts rather than achieving wholeness.

After some thought I believe the dream was my subconscious’s way of sorting through weeks of mounting frustrations.  The mall food court probably symbolizes my searching for information and ways to improve my career future through education.  The butcher was probably a woman because the people I’ve dealt with at the Transition Center as well as the admissions and financial aid representatives at the school I want to attend have all been female.  (The background information about the butcher and her girlfriend might represent how some offices of both institutions–the Center and the school–haven’t communicated or shared necessary information at times.)  A whole sheep might symbolize the trust I’ve had to give these organizations concerning my future.  But because I’m given the food to prepare myself and because it’s lamb (or mutton), and a whole one at that, could represent a generous gift based on trust (state funds).   However, my worries about not knowing where to store or how to prepare the food could be my worries about going back to school and succeeding.

Then again, maybe I’m just weird.

Not everyone I know has been trying to go back to school.  I bumped into a former coworker a couple days ago who’s been at the Transition Center everyday for the last month.  I was quietly surprised when he told me that he’d never used a personal computer or logged onto the internet before he’d started applying for jobs online in the computer lab.  He hasn’t heard anything back yet.  But the day before another former coworker told him about a factory south of town that makes hybrid batteries.  Demand is so great the plant runs seven days a week and all shifts.  Other people who’ve been laid off from our old factory have found work there.  The pay tops off at $16.50 per hour but it starts off at nine dollars.  The case workers have been trying to steer people away from manufacturing positions, but he’s married, in his fifties and both he and his wife have medical bills, so he’s willing to work overtime seven days a week because it’s the one place he believes will hire him.  He also knows come July there’ll be even more laid off workers–younger workers–looking for those jobs too.  I do hope he gets it.

If I don’t get approved for my associate’s degree program then I’ll apply to another school in town that has a one year certificate program.  True, if there is one manufacturing job in the Miami Valley with a future it would be at a factory that makes hybrid batteries.  But the chance to learn a new skill, and not only that but to be paid while attending school, is such a rare opportunity that I have to explore it.

Though it has meant a seemingly endless stream of applications, tests and questionaires in what has been three straight weeks of fill-in-the-blanks.  I didn’t think it possible, but I’m tired of writing down my social security number, my birthdate, the names of the high school and colleges I atttended and when,  as well as describing every task I performed at my last two jobs.  I’ve taken two seperate math and reading tests as well as ones for grammar and typing.  I’ve learned I read at a college level, retained more algebra than I would’ve imagined and that I can accurately type 45 wpm even if my fingers are jittery from nervous adrenaline and frappacino caffeine.

Then there’s been searching and making copies of other necessary forms and identification such as my social security card, birth certificate, letter of termination, and W-2s and tax returns from the last two years.  For the latter I had to repurchase a 2006 copy of Turbo Tax to open the tax file.  (Lesson learned: save a .pdf copy of your tax returns along with the regular .tax file just in case the paperwork is needed later.)  And is it some sort of cosmic joke that several times this month I’ve misplaced the papers along with my car keys before I’ve needed to be somewhere? 

But for now I wait.  My career future is still up in the air.  It can either be lamb chops or McNuggets.

It’s More Like a Relief Than a Layoff.

Friday night was my last shift at the factory where I’d been working at for six and a half years.   On Thursday the assistant supervisor handed me the envelope that I’ve seen other workers with lower clock numbers than mine receive in the past.  It’s the envelope with a letter from the company basically saying, “Torgoman, because business is down we’ll have to lay you off.  And when we say ‘lay you off’ we mean ‘say goodbye forever, unless a certain American car manufacturer would somehow decide to bring a hybrid or plug-in vehicle to the plant we’re supplying.  In which case, don’t hold your breath.”

The shift only lasted a little over four hours.  Coworkers, some leaving and others staying, came by and shook my hand and patted me on the back and wished me well.  A couple people took my picture.  After the last unit rolled off the line, however, I made a quiet exit while most everyone else mingled around.  I’m not really one for goodbyes.

The layoff was inevitable.  Another, larger one is expected in July.  Sure, I’ll miss the money.  $110 a day after taxes is a good salary nowadays for an assembly line worker.  However, the paycheck is all I’ll be missing.  If I would’ve gotten cut in July instead, I’d have been able to pay more towards the credit card bill and car payments.  But there was a sort of relief when the scheduled axe finally fell. 

The job has always been about the paycheck.  The money I received on Fridays compensated for working through some exhausting shifts and lousy nighttime hours with some occasionally frustrating people.  Or used to. 

Around the time the layoff rumors started something had already felt off.   There was an itch I didn’t know where to scratch, or how.  I couldn’t just attribute it to stress.  Much like how you can still feel hungry even after finishing a large meal because your system still lacks some essential nutrient, there’s something unrealized I have to experience or attempt.  Or rediscover. 

What is that exactly?  I haven’t the foggiest idea right now.  I think it’s several things actually.  But I wouldn’t be able to find it working at that factory.