The Dotgov

I am trying my best to comply with the requirements. On Tuesday, Christmas Eve, I braved the local traffic, all 22 RT miles of it, to pee in a cup. The urinalysis being one of a handful of tests required to land a(nother) position with the Federal Government aka dotgov. As detailed yesterday the paperwork, a serious PIA if ever there was, I had to do twice because my lousy wifi signal terminated the first attempt as I was about to electronically sign, seal and send. Oh, well, I slugged it out with as much patience and understanding as I could manage, given the dinosauric questions and formatting straight outta the Stone Age. Maybe they are already monitoring my communications so I should probably not troll them just yet. I heart the dotgov. 

I got a return e-mail from the lead hiring agent at 0730 this morning, Boxing Day, asking for me to be in their office for fingerprinting at 1000. Their offices are south of downtown Seattle and I live on an island a 35 minute ferry ride away. OK, sure. I print out the four page document containing all the code numbers and a page of chain-of-command people to be copied, round up the dogs, drop them off, speed to my free parking spot, run to the boat and settle in for the sail. It is 34 degrees in Seattle with a brisk headwind as I navigate past a few of the old haunts, past a slew of new buildings and the downtown construction project that has witnessed the demolition of the waterfront viaduct and total reconstruction and re-routing of the ferry terminal. Big time stuff. I don’t even recognize most of it and I have been living here, full-time since 1979. Yikes. 

I get to the main office with three minutes to spare and ask for directions to HQ. A guy pushing a cart points straight ahead and signals with his thumb to go right once at the dead-end. I find the door, pick up the phone to dial the access code and am immediately met my a lady who welcomes me with a cheerful, ‘we’re so glad you’re here.’  Finally some love! “I’m glad I’m here too, where’s the coffee?’

As she is filling a styrofoam cup with what appears to be tea, she starts in on a rant about the recent volume, lack of quality help, limited parking and construction downtown. I am thinking I could end up being a manager here in less than as week. She finishes off her diatribe as the fingerprint coordinator turns a corner and walks to meet me with a huge Filipina smile and an outstretched hand. We shake, I toss a tagalog good morning and I follow her into a tiny office that immediately reminds me of my old office behind the downtown theatre in the middle of the Indian Ocean. That was a government job too. 

We go through the computer to find my newly established presence but she needs a routing number that is not on the forms I was instructed to bring so I call up my e-mail communications and provide it for her. She smiles, a touch embarrassed and I think I will be GENERAL manager by New Years. 

We finish with the primaries and slide over to a small desk that carries only a laptop and what I suspect is the fingerprint machine. After a few mistakes, one must align four fingers along a small space and mine are not those of a classical pianist, but finally we make it through the process and she sighs an exhale announcing that we are done. 

Great, I say, that was easy, ready to be assigned an ID badge and issued my first assignment. 

Yes, we’ll get back with you in about six weeks, have a nice day. 

On the way home I check the ferry schedule to find that I have 45 minutes before the return sailing. I stop in a new cafe that has risen from the ashes of what used to be a popular Italian bistro. I order a double Americano and a garlic bagel with cream cheese. I sit at a table next to a brick wall that I am sure I once used as a backdrop in the attempted seduction of a sweet young classmate. That might have been thirty years ago. I get up to look at the art on the wall and see Bruce Lee, one of our more prominent natives. The barista calls me for a pickup and I turn my back on the Dragon to fetch my breakfast. As I do an odd echo reverberates inside my ear. 

We’ll get back to you in six weeks. 

I turn around to sit at my table and glance up again at the photo of Sensei Lee. He is trying to tell me something. I look closer but can’t quite read it, so I shoot it with the phone thinking that maybe I can magnify it and read the inscription, because I am sure by now that I must hear his advice. Have a nice day?

“Love and Kindness work. When it’s time to dance, you dance. When it’s time to cry, you cry. When it’s time to kick some ass - you kick some ass.”