by Colleen Sutherland
(Note: I've returned to my series of depressing Christmas stories intended for those readers who really hate the holidays. By next year, I hope to have enough for a collection.)
“What can you do well?”
The caseworker at the Schmallen County Human Resources office wasn't all that much interested in Jackson's answer but she had a form to fill out. She had been talking to unemployed old guys for years. He had been looking for work at her office for two years. They both played the game. He had seen her before but doubted she remembered him.
“I was good at stuffing Twinkies,” Jackson said.
“You're kidding, right?”
“No. That's what I did for thirty years. Just stuffed Twinkies.”
“Not much future there. They closed the last plant this week down in Tennessee.”
“I know.”
“Maybe you should look into training for something else.”
“I've already taken two re-training courses. The feds won't let me sign up for another. Even with new skills I never get past the first interview.”
The caseworker stared at him. “Maybe if you presented yourself better.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Dress better for one thing.”
“I have one good suit that I save for interviews. I'm sure not going to wear it out when I come down here every week.”
“OK, but how about getting a haircut and shaving off that beard.”
It was a luxuriant growth, his beard. It was deep brown, full and curly, a thing of beauty. He trimmed and combed it daily. “They can't refuse to hire me because of a beard. It's unconstitutional.”
“No, they can't give that as a reason, but they'll sure as shooting hire someone clean shaven instead of you and say he's more qualified. And face it, you're not all that qualified for much of anything. So, tell me, do you anything else well?”
“I grow a great beard. That's about it.”
“If it was white, you could work as a Santa and get seasonal work. Too bad.” She finished the form, handed it to him and crossed his name off her list. “Next!”
(Note: I've returned to my series of depressing Christmas stories intended for those readers who really hate the holidays. By next year, I hope to have enough for a collection.)
“What can you do well?”
The caseworker at the Schmallen County Human Resources office wasn't all that much interested in Jackson's answer but she had a form to fill out. She had been talking to unemployed old guys for years. He had been looking for work at her office for two years. They both played the game. He had seen her before but doubted she remembered him.
“I was good at stuffing Twinkies,” Jackson said.
“You're kidding, right?”
“No. That's what I did for thirty years. Just stuffed Twinkies.”
“Not much future there. They closed the last plant this week down in Tennessee.”
“I know.”
“Maybe you should look into training for something else.”
“I've already taken two re-training courses. The feds won't let me sign up for another. Even with new skills I never get past the first interview.”
The caseworker stared at him. “Maybe if you presented yourself better.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Dress better for one thing.”
“I have one good suit that I save for interviews. I'm sure not going to wear it out when I come down here every week.”
“OK, but how about getting a haircut and shaving off that beard.”
It was a luxuriant growth, his beard. It was deep brown, full and curly, a thing of beauty. He trimmed and combed it daily. “They can't refuse to hire me because of a beard. It's unconstitutional.”
“No, they can't give that as a reason, but they'll sure as shooting hire someone clean shaven instead of you and say he's more qualified. And face it, you're not all that qualified for much of anything. So, tell me, do you anything else well?”
“I grow a great beard. That's about it.”
“If it was white, you could work as a Santa and get seasonal work. Too bad.” She finished the form, handed it to him and crossed his name off her list. “Next!”
