Monday, the 24th In the temp agency this morning. I handed over my picture ID and the secretary made a copy. Then I watched in amazement as she carefully cut the photo part out of the copy, shredded the rest then affixed the tiny picture of my face to the application I'd filled out. How strange.
I didn't get to the city till early Sunday evening so I pretend Monday is Sunday and do my routine. Every week for over a year now I've sat in a coffee house peeling off each section of the Times like an onion. Some I toss aside unread, like Business Day or Automobiles. I can't imagine there are even two people who read the Automobiles section, yet there it is, every week, sometimes up in front cradling the Book Review, sometimes way in back hiding the Sunday Styles (which is my secret favorite part).
The sections are never in the same order week to week, even though they are in fact numbered. It is only outside New York itself that I've ever seen the paper actually put together in proper order. Therefore when I pick up my copy I always check that every piece is there. I find this saves on childish tantrums later.
Depressingly it's the Help Wanted section that I'm most concerned with these days. And for over a month now, every week someone has asked if I need the Help Wanted section. I always answer "Unfortunately, yes" with a grim smile, which the stranger usually returns. One week when I chose Starbucks for my day of rest and reading I stopped in Kmart first for something and the Kmart pharmacist asked for the Want ads. So many of us...everywhere.