Collecting information from a bunch of strangers is tough as it is – but it’s even tougher when the nation is in crumble and people harbor the feeling that the government owes them something rather than the other way around. In the last couple of days, I’ve heard a variety of responses from our community members. “We don’t owe the government any information… These questions are so private and disrespectful… Is this where they’re spending our tax money? We have other more important issues to address." And while, I can't quite provide a satisfying response for most of these questions and concerns, I need to find a way to convince them into believing that the Census is important and that it needs to be completed. As for other people, they couldn’t run away from you faster... it's as if you were carrying a Durian down a Singapore street on a humid day and you literally have to chase after them. So, I’ve decided to take the matter in my own hands. I wear a cute outfit and try to disguise myself as a regular person. Of course, this also puts you at the risk of random doormen checking you out asking you if you’re single. I should just give all them 7D’s info and say that she’s really looking for a friend. Would that be way too inappropriate?
3F was a couple in their mid sixties. The woman was passive; the man was aggressive. Their names were Jack and Jill. “Hi, my name is Annie and I’m with the Census Bureau. Would you be kind enough to go over a 10-minute questionnaire with me today?” The woman nodded, invited me into her apartment, but insisted that she only had five minutes because they need to catch a flight to Florida. I read her the questions as quickly and efficiently as possible. When I asked her about the household owner’s birth date, the husband barged into the living room with his shirt half-open and cherry red converse sneakers. “What is all this info. that you’re giving the government Jill?” I told him that it was a required question. He then vented about how the government has no business asking about their age and race. All they need to know, according to him, was how many people lived in the residence. I didn’t disagree with him entirely; but hey, I wasn’t being paid to think.
I convinced him to answer the questions and reassured him that all his information was completely confidential. That no, he would not become a victim of credit fraud in the next few months. I showed him my ID about five times. He answered all the questions, but refused to provide a phone number. He kept telling me that he had nothing against me personally, but he found the system despicable. As I finished filling in the empty boxes, his wife went to the other room to finish packing. He asked me some questions such as where I live and where I had gone to school. He looked rather surprised when I told him I went to Vassar. “Vassar, huh?” He replied. “Why, that’s a fantastic school! Say Jill, did you hear? She went to Vassar?” The wife yelled a faint yes from the back room. I laughed and said yes, I agree that it’s a wonderful school, but unfortunately, my working for the Census doesn’t really serve as the most accurate picture of the school’s greatness. He laughed. “Hey! At least it’s a great experience… Say, I dated a girl from Vassar awhile back. She was great.” Then, I heard the wife calling for him. “Jack, we need to get going. We have a flight to catch.”
The Lady
If you’ve ever visited apartment 7D, you’ll know that it’s smart to make someone call you after fifteen minutes just as a rescue method. Of course, I wasn’t that informed, so I ended up spending two hours talking to a woman I barely knew. She lived with her only son – a single mother that just purchased the high-rise apartment because of the view. She kept asking me if I really thought it was worth it to pay that much more on an apartment just for the view. I reassured her that it was – not because I genuinely thought the apartment was worth the X amount, which she paid, but because I felt like she needed the reassurance. You see, I really didn’t have anything else on my mind besides the fact that a) I want to make this visit as pleasant as possible and b) I want to get my job done quickly and leave when I can (after all, I still haven’t gotten around to my usual yoga session that day). But, this woman… she had something else on her mind.
She began the conversation by asking me innocent questions – where did you go to school? What did you major in? How old are you (by the way…)? I responded briefly and concisely as I was told. Then, she offered me a Diet Coke and I said no thanks, I should probably get going soon. She sat back down in her chair and plunged into her personal life – telling me about how wanted to have an affair with a councilman that was her former lawyer. I told her that’s nice. And just to be friendly, I even threw in a question or two. I even asked her if she knows him well. In my opinion, this question did not warrant the extensive bio of his life that she generously provided me with: married with two kids, the wife and he don’t seem to be happy together, and she feels such a connection. I told her that all of this sounds pretty exciting and she has a lot to be excited about… although, I would definitely consider the kind of impact she would be making on the family if she were to act on her desires. Not to mention, he’d probably end up having the upper hand in the whole situation and that it would be totally unfair to her. She told me that she knew; that she would be the evil woman in this whole situation but that reason alone wasn’t enough to stop her. She wanted to please him in every way she can. Uh huh, I said. Well, I think it’s important to consider your values and needs too. What do you want from all of this? If you’re in “love” with this man, I wouldn’t suggest putting yourself out there like that just because it’ll make you more vulnerable in the end. After all, he does have a wife and a kid back home.
She turned on her computer and started reading her old emails to me – (mostly from her to him). I could hear her son in the background asking for dinner. “Call me if you ever need anything. I don’t know why I feel this way…” And there was an email from him – two emails to be exact – saying, “CALL ME at xxx-xxx-xxxx.” Then, the other one saying, “It’s me… not you.” We engaged in another 20 minute dialogue on what “it’s me, not you” means from men. Although, to me it seemed very clear to me that all of his expressions/phrases/emails/comments were under the umbrella of the thought, he’s not that interested.
But, of course, I couldn’t tell her this because in her eyes, she looked so hopeful. “Call me means he’s interested right?” I nodded a half-assed yes and told her let's just wait until he calls. She looked content. The sun was down and it was almost ten o’clock at night. I had to go home.
Update: I bumped into 7D lady in the lobby of her building yesterday. She asked me for my phone number and told me that he still hasn't called. This time, I was informed enough to not give her my number.
