Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 1, 1985)
ndy grahn another mother ¡01 I a m a g o o d typist nattier s orm^ ctrYiiieieiTO rnm J by Joel Redon Ì i * i V /1 i. vL'« its • ( v ( / < fl\+7 : OCiL Is V If you let yourself go too far it’s very hard to pull it together again. I know this because it’s happened to m e a lot There’s this feeling people get about you — you’ve been laying in bed for two days now, not doing much, maybe reading a little or watching television, and people can sense this about you and that’s all right, all right that is, as long as you're not looking for a Job. I was lucky last time I was like this because I had a lot of books and I sold them to a book buyer who liked me. (He liked me, I think, because I tried to make him like me. I hoped it would bring me a better 1 i Klf f i , U ? f/ * ? i.X? C t. 1/ f f / < C o H i* < f order the Hie to come and c he ¡Jain gale Wilhelm we too ar i homosexuality cimar lamer ould noi fell dovici leuciti iarr ucMer lisa aliher other worn a v V V < y A f p > f ) f i <V , f /:> <i / * ‘ i > J ÌÌ'ìfìY Ì ys V j f }?>s> 4/ Ì njmg io oc an honest woman a oh inns silence jirn hunger tec> . ¿¡fid* d r v ) i ‘i hi*,' b^s i/th * tu<t o n * s/ 4/ v«*kA < ^ \* a v / 4 X1 \ V ' f V t iv iy 4 / f *.*4 v .y k s/ 4 -t oel recioti i am a good tapi si je< only trini Judy grahn a run mum in one another's arms a ■e contine women who Iacea V? price on the books — and I’m almost sure it did.) Now, this year, the books are all gone and I d o n ’t have anything to eat W hen you get really hungry you can feel it in your neck, or at least I can, m y neck seems to stick out of m y shoulders and there’s a rigidness to m y body. I’m almost sure that people can tell I’m hungry when I ride the subways (I’ve always felt that m y body was like glass — that people could just look at me and tell what I am thinking. T h e way to conquer this is to be “professional.” Professional means that you act one way, regardless of how you feel or what you think.) Needless to say, a potential em ployer senses it like a hawk. N ow I am a good typist I want everyone to know that from the beginning. That is m y asset to the world. I can type, depending on how nervous I am, 70 to 95 words a minute. O n c e I typed a whole lot more than 95 be cause I pretended the typing test wasn’t a test at all but a typewriter in m y own room and nobody was around. I am also a very pleasant person, really. Sometimes I am even almost too pleasing and that makes people uneasy. But no one ever complains about that, it’s just a feeling they get But they are suspicious. It’s just that I’m so grateful at that point to have a job and to be able to pay m y bill at the hotel. (Th e hotel I live in does have a certain name but people who know it always call it “Suicide Hotel’’ because so many old people have jum ped out of windows. There’s old people everywhere in this place and if you’re not careful you wake up one morning and you think you’re too old too and you go down stairs to the donut shop and order one egg and a tiny glass of orange juice that’s so small it’s like the kind of cups doctors give you to take medication in. I suppose that’s the idea — but it’s only enough orange juice to get your throat wet. But it is very cheap,) and that’s why I go there when I do. You try not to notice too m uch about living in Suicide Hotel, because if the oldness and sickness gets to you it’ll start to show and then your chances of getting a job are even harder. But I want you to know that yesterday I pulled it together. I put on m y tie, took my white shirt out from under the mattress where I put it to keep it from being too wrinkled, and put on m y black pants. Then I went o u t I was glad I was out of cigarettes (when you wake up it feels great if you can keep from having one — but sometimes you feel so great a cigarette seems like the best thing to top it all off and then you ruin it when you light one.) I was also glad that the cookies were all gone (they made me feel sick eating too many of them the night before. To o m uch sugar is never good.) T h e temporary agency I went to is located on 42nd Street And the First thing they told m e to do was fill out an application which I did, adding only the most minimal amount of errors to m y past work experience. (D o any of us really remember what the truth is anyway?) "Sir?" I knew from her tone of voice and her condescending manner that she was not on m y side. It’s humiliating enough to be out of work and then have some secretary who’s only one step from a life like yours should she ever lose her job, talk down to you. “You forgot to check which kinds of type writers you're able to type on." " O n all of them,” I answered. “And besides, the worker always asks you anyway when you sit down. Th ey go over the whole form then." "Have a seat” she said curtly. And then she took her time. I waited and looked at a book. "You may take your typing test now," she informed me leading m e into a small room. Immediately I looked at all the typewriters and I was just deciding which one I wanted to use when she sat m e down at a certain one. “Now you m ay begin typing when I turn on the electricity.” I waited for her to com e over and do this. But she did n o t Presently she appeared in the doorway, asking me what was the matter with me. "I thought” I told her, “that you were going to turn it on." “It is turned on, Sir," she said. And then I looked at her. These people, it cam e to me, are going to try and make me feel small. But I’m not going to let them. With that I stood up and walked to the door. “Sir! Where are you going? You’re not go ing to take your typing test?” “Th a t’s right,” I said and out I went T o make a very long story short, I went to another agency once I was no longer angry and there, after doing remarkably well on my typing test I was given a job. Every morning they call the hotel to ask if I’ve left yet Then I am to call them the first thing when I get to m y job. "How are you dressed?” she asks me. “Are you just now com ing in or have you been there for five minutes already?” I answer the questions. W hy she ever put me on a job in a bank in the first place I can’t figure out because they told me I did not look profes sional enough to work in a bank. “I couldn’t agree with you more,” I said, but this is where they put m e and I do need a job. I could have told them to put me in publishing where it doesn’t matter so m uch what you look like. But no, they put m e in a bank of all places. You should have seen m y friend’s reactions: “A Bank? O h , God. Th e y put him in a bank.” “But I’m just typing,” I tell them. “Yes, just d o n ’t you go typing on any of that money.” T h e way the tem p agencies work in New York is that they take half your salary. O n the other half you’re expected to dress expen sively, eat and pay your rent At the hotel you cannot cook, you must buy all your meals out If it weren’t for the fact that I’m such a good typist I do n’t know what I’d do. RIC YOUNG’S Production of T h e A R T o f D IN IN G by Tina I lowe r r r r r n - r r r r r r r n i T r n - r n - r r r r r r r m T m T i T n - n - i T f ' j I lilarious I lolidav Theatre About Restaurants, Fcx)d, And The People Who Love To Eat [ A HOLMMY SAMHPLIEE J r T he P ortland G rh H ens C horus j: )K- •>?<■ ■)£ liith B lhce R ogers 1 J mrm L L L t r Dec. 6 Through Feb. <) S Storefront Theatre 3rd And \V Burnside Downtown Portland Reservations: £¿4-4001 * Sat. TICKETS $7 AT DUGAN S. ROXY HEARTS. C.C. SLAUGHTER S. FORWARD GEAR. STARKY S 3, AND AT THE DOOR 8 PM Sun. 7 IWP SunDflH © D ecember 15 *¡$ 1 pm . B 0 fìT BEnson high school m r 1 1 J J ' ^ j Ju st O u t, December, 1985