I am so furious right now. I just had a meeting with my supervisor a little while ago during which she mentioned that we might be getting our grant renewed after all, which would mean that I could keep the job I have now. I’m pretty much over it and over this program, but it’s better than no job at all. I immediately started thinking of how I could turn it into a more positive experience than the last year has been, and trying to remind myself of what I do like about the job – basically trying to be optimistic about the possibility that I will end up here for up to another year.

Then I got a call from a supervisor at the same agency, different department. I interviewed for a position in her department last week. She told me about a different position that has opened up in her department which she thought might be a good match for me, and offered to set up another interview for me. Suddenly I felt like my options were expanding instead of shrinking, which was a nice change.

Then. She called back. To let me know, by the way that her department has a policy which I should know about before I do any more interviews or accept any positions. The policy is: no facial piercings.

I have a nose ring. I’m Indian. My sister, mother, grandmothers, aunts, and cousins have nose rings. I specifically got my nose pierced before my wedding because it was a time when I was more closely exploring my connection to my culture, and it was a way for me to show my commitment to my heritage, at the same time as I committed to my husband. I told her that it seems strange that there is no distinction for cultural reasons, and pointed out that because this is a Jewish agency, there are plenty of people who walk around with yarmulkes on, although wearing a hat is not considered appropriate in the office. She just kept saying that there was no way to differentiate between someone’s cultural background and their personal choices, even after I gave that example. She said that she is going to go meet with someone else right now and will bring it up with her, but I have no idea who that person is or if she can do anything about it.

I’m so angry! This is a freaking Jewish agency! Of social workers! Hello? People who should know about being culturally competent? She said something like, if they made an exception for cultural heritage, then anyone could claim anything was part of their culture. Excuse me, it really wouldn’t be that hard to find out whether or not having a lip piercing is part of someone’s Scottish heritage! The ability and willingness to learn about things like that is a core tenet of the Social Work Code of Ethics, anyway. Am I crazy or are they totally whacked?

At this point I don’t want to work for this agency in any capacity! What a bunch of hypocrites!

See more progress on: get a job

I listen to it on the radio and on the computer, subscribe to various feeds, and often visit their various pages. My goal is to donate at least $50 by my birthday, although I’d like it to be more. I’m still throwing all my change into a big old laundry detergent jug which I washed out and cut the top off of, but I haven’t counted what’s in there yet. If I don’t make my goal, I won’t let myself use any NPR services in any form until I do. Argh!

See more progress on: donate money to NPR

Last Friday, the 25th, was Towel Day. I failed to observe it, and in penance I am rereading the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy trilogy (all five volumes). I’m on the last one, having started two days ago, because they’re very quick reading. I remember them being laugh-out-loud, roll-on-the-floor, cry-and-pee-on-yourself funny, but this time, I’ve found that I mostly just chuckle affectionately. Of course, I’ve read them many times, starting over 15 years ago, so I remember everything before I read it, plus I’m more jaded and cranky, and less impressed by clever turns of phrase than I used to be. Then tonight, something funny happened. I got a bit drunk and now I’m laughing out loud again. Even gasping for air sometimes.

Nothing like alcohol for recapturing the wonder of bygone youth. I recommend Goose Island 312, not because it’s especially youthful, but because it’s really good in the summertime. If you’re from Chicagoland, it’s also local.

Both Douglas Adams and beer make me think of the British. They love beer. They get out of work and go straight to the pubs - I mean, you see them standing around in their suits, still holding their briefcases, getting a little drunk before they even go home for dinner. Like, every day. I wonder how they ever get anything done at all. If you start drinking right after work, how do you ever manage to vacuum, or feed the dog or cat or whatever, or call some cousin whose birthday it is and whom you don’t feel comfortable talking to when you’re a little drunk? I wish I knew how they do it so I could do it too.

Of course, that’s sort of how I feel about the British anyway. I realized just recently - when watching Spaced I think - that I not only love but adore the British in a way that is all out of proportion given their actual role in history and the world. I mean, I’m Indian and from the USA - I know a lot about their (impressive) bad side. But still . . . I get all misty-eyed about them, and their castles, and their constant drizzle, and most especially their accents. The recent revelation I had is that I feel about them the way some people feel about Elves. They’re just . . . magical.

I’m sure any actual British person would feel weird hearing this, and realizing that I really do mean it. But hell, white people exoticize me all the time, and turnabout is fair play.

My mother is British - naturalized, not by birth - and I’m a British citizen. So maybe I’m a tiny little bit magical too.