It's a winding road that twists and turns on a steep, downhill grade up in the hills between Hesperia and San Bernardino, just before the 15 South forks into the 215. I've made this drive before in my eclipse. It still gives me chills from time to time...even in a flat sports car that keeps its weight near the bottom of the frame.
Truck 15 was getting its ass kicked by random gusts of wind, barreling down the freeway...unstoppable and awkward...bouncing about like a pizza box on a skateboard. And I would look over to the side occasionally, between sudden jerks at the wheel, and watch the hills rolling down, down, farther down until I couldn't see beyond the drop. It really is a wonderful scenic drive when you're in the passenger seat...but these days I'm occasionally afraid to drive. I'm turning into my dad.
I answer the phone and it's a recruiter from Northrop Grumman.
When I first found out that the truck depot was in Compton, bells and whistles started going off. It wasn't the first time in my life that I felt like my laziness had gotten the best of me. No one likes to be a minority...and technically, by blood, I am one. But no one who sees the color of my skin can see that. No one who hears about my level of education or hears the way I talk can see that. As a person who looks, speaks...and perhaps, dare I say it, "acts" white, my first impression of the situation was that I would stand out far too much -- too much for my own good -- in a place like Compton:
The reality is that like most people, I have probably watched too many movies. Compton is just like any other place. It has houses and businesses, schools and mini marts, restaurants and strip malls...that and perhaps the most notorious history of gang violence this country has ever seen.So I started the blanket applications...because I knew right away that I didn't belong there. If I'm going to get mugged because of where I work, I'd prefer it be in a place I'm familiar with rather than a place notorious for its violent crime...all because I've been forced to take a working-class job at the hands of the worst economy we've had in this country since the 1970s.
She asks me if I'm available to talk. I shift the phone from one hand to the other, trying to maintain this death grip on the steering wheel and keep the wobbling truck from running off the side of the road into the canyon.
"Yes, I'm free to talk," I say, because this kind of opportunity does not happen twice.
We talked for a good ten minutes or so about a job opportunity in Chantilly, Virginia, a small town roughly 25 miles outside of Washington, DC. It was for a junior engineering position, and they were looking for someone with my background and coursework.
This is my chance to sell myself over the phone as the perfect candidate...so if she asks me if I have experience with something I don't have experience with, I tell her that I'm anxious to learn. If she asks me about my level of interest in the position, I tell her it would be an excellent opportunity. There's no room to fuck up at this point, so long as I can keep the Goddamned truck on the road.
After talking to the recruiter for a good ten minutes or so, she arranges for me to have an official phone interview with a hiring manager the following day. She schedules it in the morning due to the three hour time zone difference, and this becomes the most exciting thing that has happened to me since my official graduation from CSUF. Coming home from the worst Fourth of July weekend I have ever had...this was definitely one thing I needed to keep me going.
The next day, I did not receive a call from the hiring manager.
Should I have been surprised by this? I really don't know at this point. Finding a job where I can start a "career" has proven to be equally as difficult as finding a girl who is actually worth liking.
I wasn't surprised by this at all. Rather than let it discourage me I made it a point to figure out what had happened. I called the recruiter a few times and she ended up apologizing. The hiring manager had left the office for a meeting and was far too busy for an interview...so we rescheduled. Sometimes I guess you just have to keep the ball rolling yourself...this wouldn't be the first time I've learned that the world isn't going to do everything for you.
It had only been a couple of weeks since I began the blanket applications, and Northrop Grumman was already showing enough interest to make some phone calls in my favor. Over 600 job applications...and I got one interview.
He told me that hiring me would be an enduring process...that nothing would happen over night...that being three time zones behind made the logistics more complicated. He told me that although I should be open to any other opportunities that come my way...he was still interested in "moving forward." And then he told me that he would make arrangements for a second phone interview with a program manager...someone with more direct control over the hiring process.
A close friend of mine who graduated with me has been reporting numerous lay-offs within his respective company. It's an alarming time for everyone, because while there is a perceived difficulty in finding jobs, there is also an escalated fear of not being able to hold one's current job...at least for a while there was. We are now at a point where so many people have been laid off, there aren't really a whole lot of people left to lose their jobs...so the process has actually slowed down a bit. The economy seems to have recoiled into a position where the only people who are hire-able in my field are people who cost the least amount of money...people with security clearance...people who can manage their own relocation expenses...people who don't need a great deal of training.
I can apply to 600 jobs. I can apply to a thousand. No one is going to hire me in this economy unless I'm able to prove that I'm the most affordable commodity on the market.
It has been over a month since all of this happened. I have not spoken to a program manager.
I could argue that I "risked my life" to handle an important job call while driving home from Needles that day. I'm just glad I didn't get pulled over for it.
I could have lost my job.
