Duality

Another week, another comparison study in the contrasts between the life I had, and the life I'm trying to achieve. Hi ho, hi ho.

I've been working at Dunkin' Donuts Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sundays. My co-workers are from Brazil, Mexico, Iran and Upstate New York, plus a few other places. The first day, by way of getting to know each other between the rush times, we had the standard poor-kid pissing contest: Where else do you work? It's a given that everyone has more than one job. I mention the library and everyone nods, that's a good job. But I only have two. Other kids work the way I worked before grad school: One day here, three nights there, the more you work the more you're respected. The winner of work brag is Amir, from Iran: 2 part time 1 full time, night school and he has to go to church on Sunday with his Grandma. When we head this, everyone was like: "Damn, you win."

We are all in our 20's; we are all immigrants to Boston, we all scoff at sleep. I'm doing so well that the managers keep asking me to stay later than I'm scheduled, which is flattering. I need the money so I stay, but it's pretty exhausting too.

Fast food workers in Boston make $7 an hour, and my friends back in the South can't believe it. Seven dollars an hour. Minimum wage is $5.15! I can try to explain how lucky people are, what living here is like, but until people come to se it all they never believe me.

For instance: Wednesday I had an interview with another part of Harvard across the river. One section of the interview was where a worker from benefits came to give me a rah-rah Harvard speech, about how cool the benefits are. I'm pretty familiar with the benefits because I've been a casual worker for a year and a half now - I understand how they work, even though I don't get to enjoy them myself. So I was sort of smiling, nodding, and trying not to wrinkle my suit while the benefits were being explained. I was zoning in and out, when suddenly I caught the phrase "…and of course you can use the boat house".

"There's a boat house?"

I mean, I knew there was a Harvard boat house - it's really pretty and big and right on the river. Because it was designed by a famous architecht, I had even made a slide for it at the BAC. But I had just assumed it was for the Harvard boating teams. I didn't know -

"Yes, of course, full time employees, after they pass a swimming test, can take boats out on the river whenever they'd like. You have all the same privileges as the students here."

I was confused. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that my studies in library science would get me a job that came with free boats. It still seems crazy and untrue, as if someone had told me that with a library job I would also get a pony of my very own and free carnival rides whenever I'd like. The job interview went well, I think. I'm full of pessimism about it because I don't want to be too disappointed if they give the job to someone else. It would be a nice job to have, but there are other jobs in the world.

After spending a morning at Dunkin' Donuts, an afternoon at Harvard talking of boat houses, I went home and decided I needed a dose of something Southern. So I set about making a pinwheel, which is a white-trash recipe I first learned in my Junior High Home Ec class. You make biscuit dough and roll cooked ground sausage around and around in that biscuit dough until it makes a loaf of sausage and biscuit all swirled up. Then you bake this with lots of oil or grease or whatever fats you got around. I'm not making pinwheel up; if you have a vintage Joy of Cooking cookbook from the 70's, pinwheel is right in there with the other biscuit recipes. I've made this dish before up here, and I substitute Soy Ground all spiced up with sage and pepper and oregano. Aral LOVES pinwheel. She thinks it's the best thing ever. While we were sitting around watching TV and enjoying white trash cuisine, I mentioned how some people put cheese in their pinwheel, and Aral went nuts. "Oh that's perfect!" she said. "Velveeta?" No, I said, cheddar, but you know that Government Cheese is best. Aral agreed that this was true, that Velveeta could sometimes be too rich. Government cheese has a lighter flavor and just melts so good, makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches. We talked for awhile about the Government Cheese of our youth, and then we were quiet for a few minutes while we kept eating. And all I could think was: "I miss it".

Funny thing though: I was never really poor growing up. We always had a telephone, I always had the clothes that I needed, my parents paid their bills (eventually). But lots of people would think from the above conversation that I had been poverty stricken. I wasn't. There exists a separate scale for these things in places that are not Boston. I can't explain it. This world where people get $7 to work at Dunkin' Donuts and expect boats to come with their jobs - it's still quite a foreign experience for me.

Working on Mardi Gras was also a foreign experience for me this week. The night before I stayed up hanging out with James, and then the morning of Tuesday/Mardi Gras/Chinese New Year/Lincoln's Birthday I broke every personal rule I could think of. I was an hour late to work (I'm never, ever, late). I ate at McDonald's (McD's is super EVIL for so many reasons). I made long distance phone calls. I left work early. There are certain days when a person should not be expected to stay fully clothed, and Mardi Gras is one of them, my personal New Year's every year since I was 19 and Kimberly Ann Thibodeaux taught me the meaning of "Au bon temps roulez". I'm sure the Feetnik and her Miss Jackie would agree with me when I say that Mardi Gras should be like Halloween for adults, only you get sex, alcohol and the candy is thrown at you from floats so you don't have to walk from door to door for it.

And after Mardi Gras, after the year of the black horse began, sometime right around dawn on the 12th of February, I felt things get a little better. Like my world was suddenly shifted back closer to where it needed to be. I had a job interview this week. I have a date for Valentine's Day. I have a 6 am shift at Dunkin' Donuts, and good books on hold for me at the public library. Life is good. Life is hard. But I feel more like I'm on the right track now.

PS - Ford sent me two HUGE boxes of Luzianne. I'm good with the Southern Tea supplies at least until Easter. Thanks everybody!