Part II
So…getting my gift for plasma, is proving to be a bit more challenging, because I am an early bird. Catching worms is my thing. I was raised on it
It’s now 7:40am, and though I was fourth in line back at 6:00am, which I did not know was too early, I am still waiting. Mercifully, they open the door to the waiting rooms. They don’t really have to start till 8am, even though both waiting rooms are now packed, beyond 21 persons. There are at least 50 people here now. The side chatter is, that I can expect to wait here till at least noon.
A second timer sitting next to me just reassured me, that his first time lasted nearly 8 hours. Now, I am perfectly nervous. But it is more attractive for me to have $50 extra in my pocket, than what is there currently, about 11 cents. And payday is more than a week away. No early payroll direct deposits around Christmas. Surely, I won’t be paid until January 4th, 2011. Today is December 21, 2010.
In my nervousness, I am so curious about the people sitting next to me, I can’t help it, so I ask.
There was a student who dubbed as a barber, who also hustles side jobs in maintenance, cleaning car lots, snow plowing, and working with his father-in-law’s business.
A Italian lady in a black Tam has a client in beaver dam, but I couldn’t surmise what her role was with this client. What they hey, I just asked her, she’s a landscaper.
Cell phones play music, which supposed to be “personal” loudly and owners tote them proudly like Radio Raheem from Spike Lee’s, Do the Right Thing. The one slender security guard was hardly sufficient for those rebels who turned things off while he was standing there and then jacked them back up, when he made is rounds to the other side of the waiting room.
You get weighed, in front of everyone – though they can’t see your actual weight results, they can see your entire butt, while you are being weighed. And if you know me, that’s a sight.
The “N” word is served in plentiful portions, even by those who don’t hold the ownership card necessary to use it. It is dolloped around like fresh whipped cream, often making me duck as it was being hurled around.
People aren’t really friendly, or happy. They are probably in shock, embarrassed, bored, fearful, worried, angry or otherwise emotional, depending on the reason they are here.
It’s now 10:33am and while I had a finger poke, the pre-curser and one determinant of your qualification to give, I am still waiting to donate. Not sure why, since I was number 4 in line. Nevertheless, I wait.
I am now sitting next to a man, who is a chef, with 15 years of experience. See every time you stand to stretch or walk a few feet, someone just bogards your chair. This seemed normal. Anyway, this man, who self-described as “brown” landed his “fairy tale” job in Phoenix, Arizona over two years ago.
He reports he did well on the job so much so that he was promised a raise, yet after two years working, his hours were suddenly reduced, and eventually, he was laid off all together. (He reports to having doubled sales in his assigned areas and acquired some pretty significant clients for the company.) So he moved to Milwaukee.
Like many new transplants, he made friends, particularly one female, whom he fastly grew to care for. He was wrong about her though, she didn’t care for him in return and to his horror, she stole everything from him in his apartment, including his puppy dog. And of course, he can’t find a stable job here. That is a major reason why HE was donating plasma!
