The Emperor Has Clothes, He is Pretending To Be Naked

Today my partner was told she was not the interviewee selected for the job she sought.  For her, it was hard news but not totally unexpected.  They selected the younger applicant, of course, though my partner has experience in the field with glowing references and a great desire to have a meaningful job helping seniors.  Her age, however, was an issue apparently. How ironic!

This particular job did not pay well though it offered health insurance benefits, something that has become the last Dodo bird in employment.  Not exactly a perfect scenario the receptionist would have to "change the diaper" of any resident in the lobby if no attendant was available.  For me, I had to say "hell no" and yet the job still held the promise of a less than living wage with sufficient hours and benefits. 

Needless to say, this is the third job that has slipped by after an interview.  It is very difficult and yes, age matters.  If we say it does not, then why are so many people having the same experience?  The people doing the hiring are our age but they do not want to look upon our faces as the greatest mirror ever shown to them.  They have their management jobs and they don't want to be reminded that they are us and we are them or something like that.

The "jobless" rate enunciated in the news today is the biggest lie of all.  That rate does not reflect never clearing the bar because you are just too damn old. The rate does not reflect that we are working at half of our previous wages to now buy health insurance and wonder where we are headed.  The rate does not reflect working at lame jobs and spending the evenings looking for a better job.  The rate doesn't reflect that we never had a chance in hell but the 50 somethings that interviewed us wanted to look like they're an equal opportunity employer.

The talking head may call us the 47% but we are the bulk of the nation's spenders.  If you don't give us a chance, we cannot make a living and we cannot spend money.  If we cannot spend money then the economy continues to drag its' unholy, bloated self across this decade of greed, deception, discrimination and profound sadness.  We don't need a chance to prove ourselves because we already have! We simply need the same chance you are giving the 20-30 year olds. 

The emperor does have clothes after all.  He is just pretending to be naked.

Bobbing For Hot Dogs

Today we suited up and took our surviving two Greyhounds to the Greyhound Friends For Life Reunion in Point Richmond.  Truthfully, Point Richmond and Miller-Knox Regional Park was a bit of a blah location near the lovely Chevron refinery that recently spewed toxic smoke across that community.  We went to try to break the grief and darkness we all feel about Ginger's death three weeks ago.  The dogs lost their most whiny companion, the third in their pack, and we lost a most soft, scamp of a dog who did lots of bad things and who we miss terribly.  Greyhounds are not like other dogs, especially ex-racers.

And so we went, driving almost 50 minutes towards San Francisco with a left turn across the bay to a flat place where dozens of other ex-racers came to gather, sniff, stand around and play games.  Greyhounds lure us to them with their elegant grace and outright mighty ability to run almost 40 M.P.H. Dog racers are grossly mistreated at the tracks and it is unfortunate that almost two dozen states still allow dog racing.  That is slowly changing yet not quickly enough for these awesome dogs.

Today, it helped my girl to see so many other Greyhounds and a few looked like Ginger.  It helps us though Jade and Omi really just sniffed their kin and probably wondered why all those sight hounds were there at the park.  G.F.F.L. staff created games for the dogs and Omi participated in the Hot Dog Bobbing.  Though it took a bit to get the knack of sticking her snout into the bowl of water, she got it quickly and seemed thrilled to be eating meat, something she gets little of living with Vegetarians. 

Greyhound Friends For Life creates a method to offset the horrendous eventuality of dog racers being put to death because they didn't win a race or simply outlived their usefulness to owners.  Breeders and racers don't get pets and they don't get to live life free of the constraints of track life.

I saw one new adoptee today and he had a thick four inch incision on his flank which was all ribcage and skin.  A beautiful black dog starved at the track is now on his way to becoming a dog loved by a human, fed enough and loved more than he can even comprehend right now. 

Thank you G.F.F.L. for all that you do for our ex-racer friends and for a lovely afternoon in Point Richmond. 

http://greyhoundfriendsforlife.org/home.htm