Tag Archives: West Hollywood

Nightmare for Job Seekers in the USA

15 Sunday Apr 2012

Posted by in United States, Working Life

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Job Fair in Los Angeles 2012 – California – USA

Source: dodgersphotog.mlblogs.com

When I emigrated with my sons to the USA in 2003, my experience in international trade and fluency in Portuguese were not enough to secure a position with an import-export company. My older son, with a Brazilian associate degree in computer programming, did not fair well either.

We joined thousands of job seekers at job fairs in Los Angeles. Flash interviews with company representatives at the various booths brought no success.

Some months later, learning about vacancies at a retail store opening in West Hollywood, we joined a line with over 2,000 people in Plummer Park. Over two hours elapsed before our turn came to enter the Community Center building where the job interviews were held. We first had to complete application forms, followed by an interview, and then a written test about integrity and work attitudes. A short film presentation about the corporation ended the day’s events.

I got a position but my son did not.

Since 2008, the global financial crisis has opened the eyes of Americans to a new reality. Looking for a job has become a nightmare. In March 2012, 12.7 million people were out of work. Over five million of them were unemployed for four months and more. Consider their plight of finding a job when there were only 3.5 million job openings in February. Discouraged, 865,000 people have stopped looking for work. (Figures published by the US Bureau of Labor Statistics, April 2012.)

Lz, my Brazilian-American friend, did not give up. During a recent phone conversation, she told me: “Rose, we do what we gotta do.”

Lz is a fashion consultant. We met about two years ago when she opened a boutique in my neighborhood. I loved her taste in clothing and accessories. Her boutique was a joy to explore. But business was slow. Efforts to boost sales did not yield results. It saddened me when she had to close her business.

About six months after closing her boutique, Lz called me with good news. After failing to find work, she was in training to become a tourist guide. She was ecstatic about going on her first trial tour in Los Angeles with a group of Brazilian tourists.

Lz has re-invented herself. Accepting the new challenge entailed moving to Palm Desert in Riverside County, a two-hour drive from Los Angeles, where her employer is located. She and her husband left their home of thirty years. Their son, daughter-in-law, and two granddaughters remain in Los Angeles.

In a tough economy, competition for jobs is fierce. First-time job seekers compete with older and experienced candidates. Workers without the required qualifications and skills will be left behind. Job seekers must be prepared to learn new skills or re-locate.  (A young neighbor, unemployed for almost a year, finally got a job in the US Virgin Islands. His girlfriend left her job to join him.)

Today, I am pursuing a new career as a writer and novelist. Every profession has its challenges. As Lz reminded me: We do what we gotta do.

Big Brother in the American Workplace

04 Sunday Mar 2012

Posted by in United States, Working Life

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Security Camera in a Hollywood Store – Southern California

Source: Villanueva Photography (www.flickr.com)

Smoky gray glassy half-balls, like eyes of a giant fly, lined the ceiling in long neat rows. Hidden surveillance cameras followed my movements on the store floor and in the stockrooms of the West Hollywood retail store where I worked. This was a new workplace reality for me, a newbie to the USA. The knowledge that someone was spying on me while I worked made me feel vulnerable.

If the cameras were meant to deter customer theft, they were not doing a good job. Everyday, we found tampered packaging with no product.

I am not a thief. But to Big Brother anyone could be a thief. That thought disturbed me. As an employee, I had to be careful not to behave in any suspicious manner.

“Forget the cameras,” my supervisor told me when I shared my concern with her. “If you’re not doing anything wrong, there’s no need for concern.”

But those cameras bothered me. They were out to get us, I thought.

When I had learned how to pull merchandise from stock, my supervisor sent me to pull handbags from the small stockroom in the rear of the store.  I entered the stockroom with an empty shopping cart. I was alone. As some bags were located on the top shelf, close to the low ceiling, I wheeled the ladder to the section. I was perched on top of the ladder when another staff member opened the door.

“Need any help?” he asked, holding the door open.

“No, thanks, I’m almost finished.” With two handbags in one hand, I secured the ladder with my free hand and climbed down to the floor. “Do you need something?”

“No, the Manager was concerned about you climbing the ladder.”

“Really? You can tell him I’m fine.”

He left the stockroom. Perplexed, I glanced at the glassy eye in the far corner of the ceiling. You should be watching the customers in the store, not me, I thought.

On one occasion, Big Brother rescued me from a disgruntled male customer, the size of Hulk. He insisted that I adjust the band of a watch to fit his wrist as thick as the calf of my leg. A security guard appeared at the jewelry counter to find out what the problem was.

In time, I learned to forget the presence of the prying gray eyes and to move about with ease around the store. Then – without warning – I witnessed my first staff arrest. I watched in dismay as a policeman handcuffed a young female staff member and, together with a second policeman, escorted her out of the store.

Did management have to shame her like that, in front of the staff and customers? I asked myself.

“That’s a warning to the rest of us,” my supervisor said, joining me.

I wonder: Who is watching the Men in Suits on Wall Street who are gambling with our lives? Who is watching Big Brother?

Brazilian Friend of the Heart

16 Sunday Oct 2011

Posted by in About Me, Brazil, Human Behavior, Working Life

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Source: Photo by tmpdan, selected for Google Earth (www.panoramio.com)

Fleeing to Brazil where they speak a language different from my own rocked my world. On arrival, I could utter in Portuguese only bom dia, boa tarde, boa noite, obrigada, por favor,  and com licença.

My husband’s Guyanese-Brazilian friend loaned me a Portuguese-English textbook. With nouns having male and female attributes and verb-endings that changed with you and me, and all those others, the Portuguese language seemed a formidable language to learn. I set a target of memorizing ten new words a day. A pocketbook-size English/Portuguese dictionary became my closest companion. For the correct pronunciation of words, I found help in watching the popular novelas de televisão, Brazil’s soap operas.

Help came the day my husband came home with an English-speaking, Brazilian young man willing to teach me Portuguese. He was the life-buoy I craved for surviving in Brazil. I will refer to him as Gabriel.

The afternoon Gabriel took me, my husband, and two sons to the Ponte Metálica – the famous ‘Bridge of the Englishmen’ and remnant of the former Port of Fortaleza – I was unable to squeeze my way out of the packed bus to get off with them. I had to remain on the bus until the next stop. My sons were relieved to see me; Gabriel apologized for the crowded bus. This was the first of many popular places around Fortaleza that Gabriel took us.

Gabriel shared with us some of the dos and don’ts of Brazilian life. He did not make fun of me after I told a store clerk that I was looking for shoes pra você (for you) instead of para mim (for myself). When he graduated from the State University of Ceará, he invited me to join his family at his Graduation Ball.

Through Gabriel, I learned of an opening for a secretary at the Sociedade Brasileira de Cultura Inglesa, a private school for teaching British English and culture. I got the job. After working with them during January and February 1989, I secured a position of import/export assistant at an international trade consultancy firm.

Gabriel was discreet about his sexual orientation. At the university, where we had our first Portuguese lesson, young women flocked him. I never saw him holding hands with another male. Only after knowing me for some time did he disclose that he was gay.

Gabriel taught me that a person’s sexual orientation does not change one’s humanness; that our preconceptions about others rob us of the opportunity of getting to know brilliant and generous individuals who can change our lives for better. Knowing Gabriel, I was able to embrace and work well with gay co-workers at a West Hollywood retail store – enriching my life experience.

Gabriel was my first Brazilian friend, um amigo do coração (friend of the heart). Many other generous people journeyed with me during the sixteen years I lived in Brazil. You will meet them by-and-by.