bad start to new job

Yay, I get a job for $16.90/hour at the census bureau.  It begins in April. 

I get an email with two forms I need to complete.  I fill out the first form.  I can’t fill out the second form because the site doesn’t support Apple’s Safari browser.  I mean, really, like Safari is some unknown entity that few people use.  I want to quit already.

Next, I need to call and schedule a time to come to a downtown office in order to fill out more forms and get fingerprinted.

I call.  Ten minutes on hold and I finally get a very-efficient Ashley.  She tells me that the pre-job meeting (making it clear I am not getting paid for this time) is about 90 minutes.  “Why do I need to get fingerprinted again, since I was just fingerprinted in 2010 when I was a census enumerator,” I ask.  She responds, “To make sure you haven’t been arrested since then.”  BUT MY FINGERPRINTS HAVEN’T CHANGED I want to scream but don’t.  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is how we do it.  No exceptions.”  Then I hear her whispering.  I think she is complaining about me to another employee.  She takes forever to respond.  I say, “Ashley, Ashley, are you still there?”  To this she replies, somewhat snippily,  “Please, you have to show patience.  I am doing sign language interpretation,”  Huh?  I’m supposed to know this?  I don’t even know what it means!   Why would a hearing-impaired person be trained to handle phone calls?  The conversation drags on.  The call is taking forever, as everything we say is then whispered to another person.   Plus, Ashley can’t tell me why I need to be fingerprinted again.  “If you like, I can get my supervisor who can explain,” she snaps.  I accept her offer.   

I wait and wait.  Finally Elvis comes on.  He provides no answers, but is nicer than Ashley.  His explanation is a simple one, “I assume the government has their reasons.”  Trying to be helpful, Elvis tells me that instead of coming in, he can mail me the forms to complete and I can complete them at home (much better, I’m thinking) and I can get fingerprinted at my local precinct (much more convenient than traveling an-hour downtown).  Then I hear Ashley interrupt nice Elvis.  She assumes her schoolmarm demeanor.  I’m sure she’d just love to whip poor Elvis into place.  Me too if she could.  “No.  We make no exceptions.  You must come down to our offices.  You must get fingerprinted.”  Then she whispers inaudibly what she just said to the person who is learning sign language or teaching it or something.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say to Ashley. “I thought Elvis was your supervisor and he said he could send me the forms.”  “No,” Ashley now admits.  “I couldn’t get a supervisor; Elvis is someone else who works here.”  “But Ashley, you put me on hold, made me wait for a supervisor, and then led me to believe I was talking to one.”  Our inane conversation continues and goes nowhere.

Now Ashley hates me.  I hate them.  Working for a government agency is the worst.  Working for so little money is sad.  Following protocols that make no sense is something I am definitely not good at.  And now having to go to the library to use their computer because I don’t own a PC is ridiculous.

$16.90 an hour.  Barely worth it.