Bounder of Adventure
Now Playing: Adam and the Ants--"Xerox"
There was a Tom Tomorrow cartoon that came out (in the 90s, I think), looking at the occupational malaise of that generation born after 1963, in which "gosh darnit, young people can't find jobs they like!" "It's not fair!" whined one youth with the kind of 50s style so beloved of that particular commentator. Every time I get pissed off at work, I try and remember that cartoon, the billions of people around the world with worse problems, and remind myself that I'm not entitled to anything apart from certain fundamental rights, not including a pleasing job. The exercise took on a much more interesting twist in the past couple of days, as I (a) had my hours increased, (b) got a raise--how much I'm not sure yet, but it's something, and (c) was recommended by my boss--who, irritant that she is, can come through for us on rare occasions--to the restaurant next door as a possible prep cook candidate.

In the past week, our dishwasher and line cook both quit, apparently due to some probably groundless scare regarding la imigra.* I'm going to miss them, especially our line cook, who's been with us for over a year, but what's interesting is that the same thing happened next door; the terror cleaned out something over half the restaurant next door and now they're looking for people. I went there this afternoon and spoke to the chef; he's immediately looking for a dishwasher, and I almost just as immediately took that job, so anxious was I for something different, but caught myself just in time and told him I'd get back to him after this weekend. Even keeping my opening statements in mind, I've had enough of those, and I do enough of that already at my present prep job. I mean, this is what I've been looking for--an entry level cooking position at another restaurant (a real restaurant, that serves dinner and alcohol)--and I didn't even have to go searching for it, which is just as well, as if there's one thing in this world I hate almost above all else, it's looking for a job. With my hours increased at work, I just hope I'm able to heft what might be 16-hour days in succession. Of course, so many other people do it that it'd be a shame to wuss out on this, especially as I rather want to do it for a career.

Work today was pretty savage, although I'm starting to regard it as a circus, in which I'm the clown. I'm fine with that, as the ringmasters usually look more ridiculous anyhow. Two of my friends came by and got to enjoy the carnage, a nice way to celebrate what looks like the beginning of summer--we don't do spring anymore, right?

Army of Shadows (1969): Jean-Pierre Melville's moody, contemplative epic looks at the gritty reality behind the glamor of the French Resistance, with Lino Ventura, Jean-Pierre Cassel (just recently deceased, too), and Simone Signoret among others as Resistance fighters who try to maintain their humanity in the midst of anything but. Filmed with a bracing lack of ostentation and a skeptical sort of sympathy towards the characters, it was well worth a look, if the showing hadn't been fraught with so many problems. I went to see it at the Michigan Theater, and only belatedly realized that it was basically just a high-class DVD projection--which would have been fine, really, except that it kept skipping and freezing up, at one point stopping entirely and then replaying the entire previous ten minutes over again. The staff in general seemed to have little idea what was going on, but everything eventually righted itself, and we even got free passes after the show, which was nice of them.

*I'm predictably liberal when it comes to illegal immigration; I think it should be stopped when immediately found, but once people have worked at jobs for a while, I think rigorous enforcement is spiteful and counterproductive, especially as I've gotten to know quite a few of these people over the years (including, it seems, our former line cook and dishwasher, and practically everybody in the kitchen at the Mexican restaurant of my early Ann Arbor days). As for the "taking jobs away from Americans" meme, I'm of two minds. I think it really is true that many of the jobs illegal immigrants work are ones that native-born Americans find beneath them. That is, if they've already worked middle-class jobs or come from a middle-class background. It's an attitude, as I've said, that I constantly have to guard against, both from others and (especially) from myself. I mean, I'm a 32-year-old M.A. working a service sector job for $9.30 an hour (as of last week; not sure how much it is now), and that presumably leads many people to conclude I'm a failure. By certain standards, I am, but I don't think so at heart (though groupthink can be very, very persuasive at times), especially considering such standards are those of a failing society. I do confess to, on occasion, certain unworthy (and probably borderline racist) thoughts along the lines of "I'm too good for this," and I suspect these views to be pretty widespread. For others, though, these jobs are serious business. I remember reading an article, I think it was in The Nation or The American Prospect, about the plight of American service-worker unions and how illegal immigration has cut into their membership and power; people who don't mind doing working-class jobs (which these days can just as easily mean janitorial work as the classical stereotype of skilled mechanical labor) find themselves in competition with undocumented applicants willing to work for less and often without any of that pesky "human rights" stuff. It's a double-edged sword, I suppose, yet another fun thing about post-industrial capitalism.

Happy Trails, then.