From the Census Frontlines

Another 4 hours spent reviewing questionnaires and reminding workers that the forms are machine read – if I can’t read them the machine can’t read them. Don’t argue with me that your alien looking block letters are acceptable; go back to your foreign country, fool! And don’t write a novel in the notes section; distill the essence of the problem in 5 words or less. It really is not that complicated – they refused to answer, case closed.
I got permission, and I sense even some encouragement, from the next higher up boss to be blunt and direct with the workers. I love it! I got fired for this elsewhere.
We have quotas – you are not getting paid to sit in you car and drive around. The government is often not logical, a bureaucracy not as bad as you find in Europe, but they are not STUPID! Complete questionnaires or you’re gone.
I’m drinking more with this job. Not actually drinking on the job, not yet at least. I’m not sure whether it’s the job or just that I haven’t worked a real job (Starbucks coffee making was not real work) for several years. I enjoy the work, the deadlines, using my brain to find a proxy, flagging down neighbors. It is enjoyable! I feel empowered as a U.S. Census worker – if you cause me grief we call in the feds. I love putting that sign in my back window – U.S. Census, Official Business, Frequent Stops. Yeah, I realize it’s the sort of the same thing the newspaper guy has on his car. But I am the government!
Maybe I should have gone for that CIA job years ago. Hmmmmmm, maybe not.