Workin’ On a Chain Gang

It’s called “Human Resources,” and it’s a sort of slave trade that I was involved in for many years.

Per Webster’s Ninth:

.......Human: 1: of, relating to, or having the characteristics of man
.......2: consisting of men 3: having human form or attributes.
.......(Hmmmm….. WOMEN are not mentioned by Webster…)

.......Resources: 1: a source of supply or support; an available means
.......2: a natural source of supply or revenue 3: an ability to meet
.......and handle a situation (I left out some obviously irrelevant
.......meanings)

Loosely translated, then, my job was to find creatures having human form, who had some ability to meet and handle a particular job situation. Most of the jobs paid low on the wage scale and did not require any formal education beyond high school. My tasks were to advertise and recruit, phone screen, test for physical ability to do the work (eye-hand coordination, fine motor skills), interview and then offer employment (or a plausible excuse for not hiring), and make appropriate job placements.

I flew by the seat of my pants, not having any actual training or experience in H.R., frustrated (or, conversely, buoyed up) by the fact that the ideal candidate hardly ever existed. The goal was to hire the best available, and when you met the range of possibilities, "best available" sometimes became clear by elimination of whom you would NOT want to hire. Okay, so I’m exaggerating a little, but sometimes it resembled the physician’s creed: First do no harm - don't hire the alcoholic, the violent, the irresponsible, the crook.

During those years I met some noble, hard-working, good people. I also met some of the scum of the earth. I met the working poor – people who will struggle all their lives at pay rates below a living wage. I met people down on their luck (often perennially). In total, these folks were the Americans vying with their unfortunate Chinese or Mexican counterparts to produce the lowest cost electronic toys we all love and want.

My work was not without joys and satisfactions. A job of any kind can be the leg up a person needs, it can be the first step to exiting a bad marriage, the extra money to see a family through a rough patch. It can help define a career, a path in life. A job – even a low-wage, entry-level job - can bring self-confidence and a sense of pride for some people. I offered an opportunity to men and women who had few such; not a great opportunity, but a first (or sometimes last) chance to get on the ladder and start moving up.

This is the context of my next few posts. They are going to be stories from the interviewer's side of the desk, stories I could never invent. The first one begins above this post.

Let's Go Canoeing!

One enjoyment of the Labor Day weekend was a five-hour paddle up the St. Regis River from the tiny hamlet of Santa Clara. Our canoe is a wonderful 39# Wenonah Jensen, designed for touring and speed rather than for cargo and stability. It is a delight to paddle, and we launched at about noon on Sunday.

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At the launching site there is a weatherproof wooden log-box where we signed in and indicated our intentions ("canoe up river") and length of stay ("a few hours"). The river is wide here and the current not too strong. Ducks and great blue herons nervously took to the air as we paddled past them.

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About a mile or so upstream the river makes a sharp bend to the right and then again to the left, and from there on it begins to narrow and meander.

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There were two possible landing places for lunch, a rocky outcropping that seemed to have a small landing beside it, and a sandy shore. We chose the latter and put in for our picnic. ..

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Soon well-fed and back in the canoe, we surprised a muskrat. (You can just see his head near the center of the next photo).

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As the terrain flattens a bit, the river divides into several channels, in the process of making the ever so gradual natural change from navigable stream to eventual bog. The main course is swift-flowing and often longer than alternative routes, so we chose to try paddling through some of the shallows, often feeling our paddles gently bump the thick plants and even the bottom at times. We quickly learned which water plants grow in the shallowest places.

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In these shallows, the minnows are found. We saw thousands of them, most about an inch or two in length, and then we were surprised to spot this: (click on the photo for a slightly better look)

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We maneuvered the canoe closer so that I might get a photo of his front end, but when the canoe paddle accidentally clunked against the boat, he vanished in cloud of silt, gone to take refuge far from the floating golden menace.

A shrill "klee! klee!" above us announced the arrival of a large hawk. Holding onto some vegetation to keep us from being carried back downstream, we watched him circle and soar until an updraft carried him up and away out of our sight.

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The channel was narrow now and the current swift. About three hours had passed since leaving Santa Clara, and we had seen no other human beings except a man and a woman fishing from a rock not far from the launch. They would be the only people we would encounter during our five-hour paddle.

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Tired - and noting the sun's position - we turned around, smiling at the knowledge that the rest of the trip would be downstream and with the wind at our backs,
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but even with the cooperation of current and wind, we began to believe that someone had moved the launch site a couple of miles farther downstream than it was when we set out. We were weary!
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Finally back on dry land, the boat on top of the car, we headed to our favorite watering hole, the Casa del Sol in Saranac Lake. After tamales del dia and enchiladas, we drove the long ride home, tired but still glowing with the delights of the day. .

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I hope you have enjoyed our paddle. Thanks for keeping your weight centered and not tipping us over!

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