The art of finding a job and the act of applying for unemployment are two of the most distinctive transformations I have seen in the last 50 years.
A good friend, out of work in the tech field, called me awhile back and asked my opinion on his professionally composed resume. He handed it to me with a little more than normal care asking, "Are your hands dirty?"
Passing the clean-hand test, I felt the texture of the satin-finish, medium-bond paper and noted the Verdana bold font. It seemed it was money well-spent.
After reading the first few sentences, with all the many adjectives and objectives, I wondered if the job he was pursuing was worth all this or if he was running for office.
The primary thing to do when applying for a job in my day was to show up! After a few words with the prospective employer, you were either in or out.
No happy winners here
My friend explained he had been on unemployment for a spell and what a hassle it was to e-mail his weekly request for unemployment.
It was a far cry from how unemployment was drawn in the '50s. The first thing to do was to report in person to a building in Belltown.
Inside, it looked like the Longacres betting-windows area - only there weren't any happy winners.
After standing in one line, you were sent to "admitting." There, we were crammed into a small room, where a man giving us the "orientation procedure" stood in front of a large blowup of the form we were to fill out. He pointed to the different lines of the chart behind him, and he did so without taking his eyes off of us.
After completing this form successfully, we were issued little, orange books for denoting our report time.
Each week, we stood in long lines according to our predetermined time slots. To get the proper place in line one had to ask each person already standing in line his or her time slot.
At the window, the clerk would ask if you looked for work, if you refused work, were you available to work and so on. There would then be a pause, at which time you would either get a check or be sent to Section Q.
Section Q was where it was determined if you did indeed put forth adequate effort. Here, they either believed you and issued the check or didn't and issued you a fine. The check ended up being a hard-earned $47.
Finding work
The orange-book organization called and directed me to an interview. So I put on my best seeking-gainful-employment costume and reported on time to some storage company in downtown Ballard.
I went upstairs and down a dark hallway and must have found the right door as I heard someone typing.
Once inside, I told the receptionist I was there to apply for the job, and she looked puzzled, maybe irritated. She found an application form, pointed to the only chair in the office and continued to type.
After completing the application to the best of my ability, I handed her the paper and noticed she was once again void of any recognizable expression.
Too impatient to wait for a response, I left, feeling my way down the dark and dreary hallway.
But then, I remembered I entered the wrong address for "next of kin." I rushed back to the office with pen in hand and approached her, but now she looked really surprised as she held one hand over her mouth. I was able to decipher this expression; yes, it was guilt!
She had tossed it into the wastebasket by her desk. Well, at least mine was on the top of the pile of the others that she had chucked.
I reached into the basket and retrieved the paper, uncrumpled it, changed the address and handed the application to her. I waited for her to say something as she looked away, but no luck. She was caught.
As luck would have it, I reported to unemployment, was sent to Section Q and promptly fined $12 and then thoroughly reprimanded.
Easy living
It seemed many were on unemployment at some point or other in those days, but the living was easy in Madison Park.
Rents were affordable, there was no such thing as a yuppie and the area wasn't quite as busy as it is today.
Joggers were unheard of, but there were always tennis players and beach enthusiasts who helped give the place a resort feel.
About the only coffee to be had was simmering at the drugstore all day long, setting a person back a whopping 10 cents.
Yet it was still a gathering place in the neighborhood. There was no such thing as bad coffee.
Madison Park has been through all kinds of economic cycles, but it has remained a comfortable place to hang a hat - even with holes in it.
Richard Carl Lehman is a Madison Park resident. He can be reached via e-mail at mptimes@nwlink.com.[[In-content Ad]]
