No, the test for becoming a Census worker does not ask if you can count to 300 million.
The exam was given in the offices of a city jobs program. I walked in and scanned the posters on the wall. One featured a drop of water rippling the surface of a placid pool. "Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference," it read.
Fuck that.
I sat at the back of the room. We had been told to arrive with our forms completed. So I did. The first half hour of the session was dedicated to completing the forms.
My eyes drifted over the application of my deskmate. The name was familiar. I stole a quick glance.
No way!
"I'm sorry," I said. And I truly was sorry, because running into someone here in the shallow end of the labor pool, amid the inspirational posters and No. 2 pencils, was slightly embarrassing. "I think we know each other."
She turned to face me. I told her my name.
"Oh! From the Reader, right?" I had done a story on her for the Reader when she opened her bakery in the fall of 2007.
We both laughed nervously. "Well," she said. "I guess I know the answer to the question 'How's freelancing going?' "
I laughed.
"And you don't need to ask how my business is doing," she said. We talked about the economy and the stimulus plan. Tax cuts only apply to people with income.
"Yeah," she said. "We used to get a lot of people calling and picking our brains about whether they should go to pastry school or not. And we'd tell them, you know, it's hard work and long hours."
I nodded. She continued: "Now, when people call, I say forget it. If you have a job, stick with it. No matter how shitty it is."
I stared at the inspirational poster at the front of the room while she summed up her advice:
"Now is not the time to follow your dreams."