helpless silence.
is that the result
of a bachelor's degree? of four years
and history and context
and analytical thought
is that all we have?
but it is more
so much more
than just that
because we're embarrassed
ashamed.
we're speechless with guilt
not guilt because we were not there
not guilt because we are not there
for most, not because we're white
not because we lived in the dorms
laughed with our friends
became depressed for a week and forgot
not because of any of that
it's because our talk was just talk
a discussion that turned into a
discussion into a
discussion and into a
discussion.
it's about the media
but you didn't really listen
and I didn't know how to listen
because no one knew what was
important.
so we listened all wrong
and our talk was just talk
and I suppose
that we grow up when talk is realized,
when helpless silence is met with action.
or maybe it is just when helpless silence is
allowed to be helpless silence.
I am not grown.
I am not wise.
I don't believe in that kind of humanity.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Sweet, dear Esther
Esther would have had to take the 16 to the 84, or the 50S to the 84, but either way it was a transfer and a trip down the construction obstacle course of University Avenue. She was okay with the bus ride. In fact, the bus ride was the most calming part of her day. The bus drivers always seemed to be on her side, and they were the true arbiters of justice; weaving the massive machines in between rush hour traffic and representing the voice of the environmentally and budget conscious with expletives spouted at any driver who dare cut him off.
She would have pushed back the sheets at exactly 5:30, probably waking up well before her alarm simply to relax before facing the day. She would have hurried to get dressed before all else to create a layer between her extremities and the under heated apartment. Her oatmeal would have been heating on the stove, her lunch, a grain salad, already waiting in the fridge. She would rush through the tasks of dressing and primping, not because she was late, but to spend twenty minutes relaxing with KARE 11 and her oatmeal with apple slices. Most of the time the news struck her as a tabloid report, but she enjoyed the intrigue and meaningless banter between reporters. She would have been out the door and at the bus stop by 6:20.
But this morning she was out the door with the same routine an hour later, catching the 16 with her regular bus driver going in the opposite direction toward her temporary job, which left her with temporary feelings about how much effort she should devote to temporary assignments or office friendships. It did not help that her co-workers had the same difficulty negotiating her temporary existence. She was regularly included on an Outlook invitation to a happy hour at McCormick & Schmick’s, but the electronic invitation was a temporary fix to alleviate such temporary social concerns.
She had been thrilled to receive the phone call. She had been in the middle of mashing ripe bananas with a force that challenged kickboxing exercises. It was an unknown number, but she did not expect this call on a Saturday. He spoke quickly, so all she heard at first was “Hazzard University,” but it was all she needed. She was thrilled. If she could impress this man, she would have a full-time, permanent job offer and tuition reimbursement. Of course she could interview right away! The bananas would be forgiving.
He spoke with unrestrained speed, but she paced herself. She would think and speak clearly this time, and she did. Immediately following she noted his answers to her questions. She took time to manipulate his answers in her mind before heading back to the bananas. She would wait to email until Sunday. He said he would be done screening applicants on Monday. It would be perfect timing.
It took her an hour to confirm the name and email address of the man she had spoken with the day before. He had mentioned his name so quickly on the phone, and she knew better than to ask at the end of the interview. Instead she used his answers to her questions to find his profile at the school: ten years at Bickman U and a Roosevelt High School graduate. She typed his email address with purpose and inserted each planned sentence of appreciation in the message below. The final line included a: “Hope you were able to enjoy some weekend time,” which inspired her smile—she could be a people-person. She clicked send, closed the laptop and returned to her weekend spree of domesticity.
On Monday, she met her bus driver at 7:20 and returned to the temporary tasks assigned to her. With no response in her email box, she spent the first hour encouraging herself to work with passion.
The Director of Planned Giving never knew names. He probably did not have time to learn them. He burst into her cubicle space and requested a meeting at 4:00, sweetie, and her resolve to work with passion dissolved as she offered to reserve the small conference room.
At 4:00, Esther stood at the Director of Planned Giving’s office, quietly knocked on the door and reminded the busy man of the meeting scheduled at 4:00 in the small conference room. She held a consciously slower pace on the walk from his office, allowing his waist line to keep easily up with hers, and asked about his weekend. The Director of Planned Giving cackled: “Weekend?? I don’t remember what the hell I did on the weekend!” Though there was a socially unacceptable pause after his comment, Esther felt no reason to speak. The Director of Planned Giving began speaking again: “Well, on Saturday I took my dog to obedience class,” and with certain glee mentioned, “and then I napped all day.” Of course, she thought and he continued, “On Sunday I watched football.” There was another short pause before he remembered: “And what about you?”
Esther smiled to herself as she told him, “Oh, it was fabulous! I cooked and cleaned the house all day on Saturday. We had delicious eggplant pasta salad, roasted tomato soup and banana bread for dinner with friends. On Sunday, I cared for my one month old niece and read my book club book.” Sweetie and the Director of Planned Giving walked into the conference room. Sitting down, the Director of Planned Giving questioned “So, what do you need from me, dear? Either Dear or Sweetie smiled and offered: “You had wanted me to practice my board member phone calls with you.” Dear or Sweetie dutifully began a practice conversation, and Esther counted the minutes until her hourly commitment dictated freedom.
Esther returned to her desk to two replied emails from the Roosevelt High School and Bickman University graduate and former employee, now employed at Hazzard University. With clearly no time to adhere to grammar, the Graduate had written, “esther- thanks for your meail and questions let’s plan to connect. give me a call after you get done with school.” Even if she had wanted to call, the last digit of his phone number was missing from the email. His email concerned her more because she neither went to school nor had asked questions in her thank you email. The Graduate’s second message relieved her of the first: “Esther- I apologize for the last message. I was responding to a student and hit reply to yours!” Though his story did not seem likely, he did want to “plan to connect” anyway to schedule a second interview. He phoned later that evening.
“Esther, how are you?” The Graduate asked at 8:15 that evening. “I would love to schedule a second interview. Are you free sometime in the next three days?” Esther figured three days was a significant block of time to work with both schedules and suggested anytime in the morning, when the bus ride to Hazzard would be shorter from home than the temporary workplace. This seemed to confuse the Graduate. He wondered out loud which of his colleagues would be available. Esther clarified, “Well, I could meet in the afternoon as well, I just figured the bus ride would be shorter in the morning from my home.” With even more options, the Graduate’s confusion became debilitating it seemed. He started five sentences before finishing his thought, “Esther, I’m going to call you tomorrow to schedule the interview. I want to check on a few things at the office.” Esther politely agreed and closed her phone. She waited through the next day for a phone call from the Graduate and after no calls decided to follow-up with him herself the next day.
Esther was just getting on the bus the next morning when her phone lit up with an incoming call. She might have answered, but she hated hearing phone calls on the bus. She was quite sure the bus drivers hated overhearing calls as well, and she was not about to make an enemy with an arbiter of justice. She figured the call could wait thirty minutes when she arrived at her cubicle.
There was no doubt to her annoyance when Esther heard the voicemail left from the Graduate at 7:20 that morning. He gave her directions to the university as if she were already late for the interview! She immediately called him back, “I do apologize, but I never knew we had scheduled a meeting. Is there another time later this week you can meet?” The Graduate sighed, at least twice, and did not hide the annoyance in his own voice, “Well, I guess we have misunderstood each other. You know, I am not sure I will be able to find another available time this week.” Esther begged to the Graduate. She really did not know that a meeting had been scheduled, and she would meet him at any other time. But that was it. He did not promise another meeting; he only continued to explain his busy schedule. Esther acquiesced with a meek apology and “thank you” and closed her phone. She was livid but too disappointed and shocked to appropriately experience her anger.
Esther put her coat away, turned on her computer, filled her coffee cup and sat down in front of her email. Just as she resolved to start a project, she heard a shuffle up the hallway, “Sweetie! We need to schedule a meeting!”
She would have pushed back the sheets at exactly 5:30, probably waking up well before her alarm simply to relax before facing the day. She would have hurried to get dressed before all else to create a layer between her extremities and the under heated apartment. Her oatmeal would have been heating on the stove, her lunch, a grain salad, already waiting in the fridge. She would rush through the tasks of dressing and primping, not because she was late, but to spend twenty minutes relaxing with KARE 11 and her oatmeal with apple slices. Most of the time the news struck her as a tabloid report, but she enjoyed the intrigue and meaningless banter between reporters. She would have been out the door and at the bus stop by 6:20.
But this morning she was out the door with the same routine an hour later, catching the 16 with her regular bus driver going in the opposite direction toward her temporary job, which left her with temporary feelings about how much effort she should devote to temporary assignments or office friendships. It did not help that her co-workers had the same difficulty negotiating her temporary existence. She was regularly included on an Outlook invitation to a happy hour at McCormick & Schmick’s, but the electronic invitation was a temporary fix to alleviate such temporary social concerns.
She had been thrilled to receive the phone call. She had been in the middle of mashing ripe bananas with a force that challenged kickboxing exercises. It was an unknown number, but she did not expect this call on a Saturday. He spoke quickly, so all she heard at first was “Hazzard University,” but it was all she needed. She was thrilled. If she could impress this man, she would have a full-time, permanent job offer and tuition reimbursement. Of course she could interview right away! The bananas would be forgiving.
He spoke with unrestrained speed, but she paced herself. She would think and speak clearly this time, and she did. Immediately following she noted his answers to her questions. She took time to manipulate his answers in her mind before heading back to the bananas. She would wait to email until Sunday. He said he would be done screening applicants on Monday. It would be perfect timing.
It took her an hour to confirm the name and email address of the man she had spoken with the day before. He had mentioned his name so quickly on the phone, and she knew better than to ask at the end of the interview. Instead she used his answers to her questions to find his profile at the school: ten years at Bickman U and a Roosevelt High School graduate. She typed his email address with purpose and inserted each planned sentence of appreciation in the message below. The final line included a: “Hope you were able to enjoy some weekend time,” which inspired her smile—she could be a people-person. She clicked send, closed the laptop and returned to her weekend spree of domesticity.
On Monday, she met her bus driver at 7:20 and returned to the temporary tasks assigned to her. With no response in her email box, she spent the first hour encouraging herself to work with passion.
The Director of Planned Giving never knew names. He probably did not have time to learn them. He burst into her cubicle space and requested a meeting at 4:00, sweetie, and her resolve to work with passion dissolved as she offered to reserve the small conference room.
At 4:00, Esther stood at the Director of Planned Giving’s office, quietly knocked on the door and reminded the busy man of the meeting scheduled at 4:00 in the small conference room. She held a consciously slower pace on the walk from his office, allowing his waist line to keep easily up with hers, and asked about his weekend. The Director of Planned Giving cackled: “Weekend?? I don’t remember what the hell I did on the weekend!” Though there was a socially unacceptable pause after his comment, Esther felt no reason to speak. The Director of Planned Giving began speaking again: “Well, on Saturday I took my dog to obedience class,” and with certain glee mentioned, “and then I napped all day.” Of course, she thought and he continued, “On Sunday I watched football.” There was another short pause before he remembered: “And what about you?”
Esther smiled to herself as she told him, “Oh, it was fabulous! I cooked and cleaned the house all day on Saturday. We had delicious eggplant pasta salad, roasted tomato soup and banana bread for dinner with friends. On Sunday, I cared for my one month old niece and read my book club book.” Sweetie and the Director of Planned Giving walked into the conference room. Sitting down, the Director of Planned Giving questioned “So, what do you need from me, dear? Either Dear or Sweetie smiled and offered: “You had wanted me to practice my board member phone calls with you.” Dear or Sweetie dutifully began a practice conversation, and Esther counted the minutes until her hourly commitment dictated freedom.
Esther returned to her desk to two replied emails from the Roosevelt High School and Bickman University graduate and former employee, now employed at Hazzard University. With clearly no time to adhere to grammar, the Graduate had written, “esther- thanks for your meail and questions let’s plan to connect. give me a call after you get done with school.” Even if she had wanted to call, the last digit of his phone number was missing from the email. His email concerned her more because she neither went to school nor had asked questions in her thank you email. The Graduate’s second message relieved her of the first: “Esther- I apologize for the last message. I was responding to a student and hit reply to yours!” Though his story did not seem likely, he did want to “plan to connect” anyway to schedule a second interview. He phoned later that evening.
“Esther, how are you?” The Graduate asked at 8:15 that evening. “I would love to schedule a second interview. Are you free sometime in the next three days?” Esther figured three days was a significant block of time to work with both schedules and suggested anytime in the morning, when the bus ride to Hazzard would be shorter from home than the temporary workplace. This seemed to confuse the Graduate. He wondered out loud which of his colleagues would be available. Esther clarified, “Well, I could meet in the afternoon as well, I just figured the bus ride would be shorter in the morning from my home.” With even more options, the Graduate’s confusion became debilitating it seemed. He started five sentences before finishing his thought, “Esther, I’m going to call you tomorrow to schedule the interview. I want to check on a few things at the office.” Esther politely agreed and closed her phone. She waited through the next day for a phone call from the Graduate and after no calls decided to follow-up with him herself the next day.
Esther was just getting on the bus the next morning when her phone lit up with an incoming call. She might have answered, but she hated hearing phone calls on the bus. She was quite sure the bus drivers hated overhearing calls as well, and she was not about to make an enemy with an arbiter of justice. She figured the call could wait thirty minutes when she arrived at her cubicle.
There was no doubt to her annoyance when Esther heard the voicemail left from the Graduate at 7:20 that morning. He gave her directions to the university as if she were already late for the interview! She immediately called him back, “I do apologize, but I never knew we had scheduled a meeting. Is there another time later this week you can meet?” The Graduate sighed, at least twice, and did not hide the annoyance in his own voice, “Well, I guess we have misunderstood each other. You know, I am not sure I will be able to find another available time this week.” Esther begged to the Graduate. She really did not know that a meeting had been scheduled, and she would meet him at any other time. But that was it. He did not promise another meeting; he only continued to explain his busy schedule. Esther acquiesced with a meek apology and “thank you” and closed her phone. She was livid but too disappointed and shocked to appropriately experience her anger.
Esther put her coat away, turned on her computer, filled her coffee cup and sat down in front of her email. Just as she resolved to start a project, she heard a shuffle up the hallway, “Sweetie! We need to schedule a meeting!”
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