31-MARCH-2008

Too Many Chiefs?

The application was online less than a week.  I faxed fourteen pages a full day prior to the deadline.  It was a lengthy application.  I included four letters of reference and a two-page resume.  You tend to put in the extra effort when you're feeling desperate.  I've only a few weeks left of unemployment benefits.

Desperation doesn't prevent you from applying to places that you've heard less than favorable things about.  I worked with a few of the local Indians back when I was at Amazon.  They were nice enough, but it was clear that they preferred their own.  They seldom marry outside their own circles.  I also have it on good authority that, in general, they treat their employees more like slaves.  I've heard from more than one person that if they even think you looked at them sideways, they'll fire you.  I applied anyway.  I have to.

The human resources assistant, Julie, left a message requesting an interview on my answering machine at four o'clock Friday afternoon.  The interviews were the following Monday afternoon.  Nothing like the common courtesy of giving a person adequate time to respond and prepare.

My first call in response yielded only her voice mail.  During the second call back, the receptionist put me on hold for over ten minutes.  I hung up and called right back to let the receptionist know that I was on a break and didn't have more time to wait on hold.  Lucky me, Eric, the head of personnel, just got off the phone and was now ready to talk to me.

He's a slightly slow talker and convinced me that taking the Sheckler Cutoff instead of going through town would be faster.  Fortunately, no one noticed I'd taken a twenty-two minute break instead of the fifteen minutes I was entitled to.  But, the appointment was set, a "shortcut" had been recommended and I was on my way to an interview later this afternoon.

I allowed an hour and a half to drive about seventy-five miles.  Naturally, I had to pee before I left.  That took extra time.  Then, when shutting down my computer and closing up the desk for the day, I discovered that I'd forgotten to put two paper cups used for hot tea into the trash.  That took a little extra time, too, because I first had to go to the sink to pour out the remaining tea.  I finally left nearly twenty minutes later than I'd intended.

There wasn't much traffic, so I was able to make up the time on the road.  Sheckler was easy to find, but it's a narrow, two-lane road with cattle and horses lining both sides of the road most of the way.  The rest is pastures and farmland, but still close to the road.  It's not a road I'd want to drive on a daily basis.  Going through town seemed more attractive even though it was nice to see so much greenery for a change.

I arrived with ten minutes to spare.  An older, white haired gentleman and the receptionist were the only folks in the lobby.  They'd been waiting for me.  The gentleman told me they'd be ready for me in a few minutes.  I looked around the nice lobby at the Indian artwork and historical pictures.  It's a nice building, not real big, but roomy inside.

The gentleman came back to get me.  He led me down a long hall, to a room in the back corner of the building.  I was glad I'd taken more Ibuprofen and that he was walking ahead of me so he didn't see me limping and lumbering along.  I tried to remember to stand up straighter and not limp so much as I entered the room.

There were two other gentlemen waiting for me.  This was the panel that would interview me.  Two Indians and one white guy, all older.  The white guy was the slow talking HR dude I'd spoken to on the phone.  The older gentleman is the Director; he's the one I'd be the administrative assistant to -- if hired.

The older, white haired man seemed cordial and friendly in the lobby, but now, as part of the interview panel, he seemed a little too curt and business like.  He was clearly quite full of himself; a man of considerable stature -- if only figuratively.

Their questions were stale and redundant.  Most of the information they wanted was already on their lengthy application.  This usually indicates that they are (1)  trying to catch someone lying about something, or (2)  haven't bothered to read my answers on their own application, or (3) they've already decided who they're going to hire and are just going through the motions so I can't cry prejudice, or (4)  they just want to get it over with and go home.

I've had a few hours to think about it.  I think all four are true.  I was already put off by the short notice, insulted by the ten minute hold on the phone, not happy with the "short cut," got a tad irritated by the questions, and had the gut feeling all this effort on my part was a complete waste of time.  And, it was costing me money I don't have to be there.  Gas money to get there plus two and one-half hours wages at the current temp job. 

Besides, there is no "short cut" to the Easternmost side of Fallon.  It's either forty-five or fifty miles per hour down Scheckler Cutoff or twenty-five miles per hour through town.  Scheckler takes you several miles out of the way to 'bypass' the cityscape that is Fallon -- it's all "downtown."  And everything on the East end of town is Reservation land.

I'm pretty sure it's Allan and Becky's fault anyway.  The other day Allan mentioned being called a racist by an Indian inmate he'd never seen before as he walked by a cell at the jail where he works in Yerrington.  I think it was in the back of my mind somewhere.  I'd talked to Becky while driving to the interview.  She knew I was applying for an administrative assistant job at one of the local tribe's business offices, yet she neglected to remind me to refer to them as "Native Americans," not "Indians."

I know it's "Native Americans," not "Indians," but I let the word "Indian" slip during the interview.  Only once, but I'm pretty sure they clearly heard me.  I was, after all, the only one speaking at the time.  I also didn't remember the name of the Law that gave the Fallon Paiute-Shoshone Tribe sovereignty from the U.S. Govt. when asked about it.

It's on the home page of their web site.  I'd read it, found it interesting, but simply forgot what it was called.  It didn't help my cause when I tried to make something up to fit the title.

Two things you never do on an interview:  Make things up and call Native Americans "Indians."  If you don't know what it is, just say so.  Making up stuff is really bad form.  So is calling any ethnic group by other than its most current politically correct designation.

No wonder the old, white haired guy was so full of himself.  He's the 'President' of his tribe's government.  There was a simple typing test after the interview.  The instructions were to type a brief letter from a generalized suggestion.  Ah, the things I was tempted to type into that letter.  I didn't, but, as Becky suggested, I might as well have said, "Bye, Chief!" as I left.

Well, that's one job possibility I won’t have to hold my breath until hearing the decision about.  My guess is that they'll add my name to the black balled list on the wall the same way most businesses post bad checks.  I’m not racist, but they are notoriously poor drivers.  By not working near there, I'll be safer.  That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.  I still like turquoise jewelry.