Perhaps most of my time bank’s professionals, however devoted to egalitarianism in theory, still value their professional skills too highly to give them away for mere hours. And perhaps people in genuine poverty are too busy struggling to get by to participate in a time bank that may or may not help them when they need it most. This might be the most we could hope for from a hippie, progressive town that otherwise still runs overwhelmingly on dollars.
As a 34-year-old woman with a college degree and a solid history of being promoted and beloved by supervisors, it’s a little sobering to look back and realize how little of my job history is fulfilling work designed for grownup people. Temp jobs not included.
Gianmarco Soresi is an actor, writer, and stand-up comedian living in New York City. He’s the writer, producer, and lead of a show called <50%, a romantic comedy that just played at the New York International Fringe Festival and was one of only 21 shows chosen to have an encore run Off-Broadway. He’s the creator and star of a web series, An Actor Unprepared. And he has a regular gig in an Off-Broadway show called Clown Bar.
We are all worse at managing our own romantic lives — and occasionally our professional choices — than Miley Cyrus is at getting dressed.
I have not asked my parents for very much, mostly because they’ve never had much, financially, to give. As a child, if you grow up with not that much, you don’t know what you’re missing. For so long, your worldview is only as big as the two-block radius you’re allowed to travel, and since you return home every night like a little boomerang, you only understand what it is that happens inside your house. You only understand the world within the context of what you’re living with, so when I was growing up, I understood on a very basic level that we had enough to get by.
I have a BFA in Theatre Arts and an MFA in Playwriting, or two degrees that have given me a lot of artistic integrity and zero dollars. As a result, I have lots of part-time jobs that are very peripherally related to my field of interest (if at all). One of those jobs, sometimes, is being an extra in TV shows and movies. I’ve only done this twice, for reasons which will become clear to you shortly.
As you may recall, I signed up to use a cleaning service thanks to a direct mailing and then blogged about it. I planned to cancel it when I read this comment but of course forgot to and then the woman who would be cleaning our apartment, Jenny, texted me a few days ago to introduce herself and confirm our appointment.
At Coney Island on the last weekend of my kids’ summer vacation, we rode the Cyclone, which has been operating under electric power since 1927.
When we started our long journey home, it was on the subway, which has more than a century of electrically powered travel under its belt.
From there, we got on a Metro North commuter train, another shining example of electric locomotion. Our car was in the parking garage at the station in New Haven, waiting to carry us on the final leg of our journey.
But alas, the last bit of our electric journey was ill-fated: our little ’02 Prius, reliable in its first decade and, thereafter, in its first year with us, greeted us with a dashboard full of automotive alarm. The central feature was an icon of an exclamation point inside the silhouette of a car. Traditionally, this symbol appears as a very small light on the dashboard of gas cars and means “check tire pressure” (even though it seems like it should mean, simply, “Car!”). But in a Prius, according to our owner’s manual, it means, “Hybrid system error. TAKE CAR TO TOYOTA DEALER IMMEDIATELY.”
I was a graduate student in Chicago when I lied about my height and became the Pillsbury Doughboy.
Giancarlo Tello is a 24-year-old New Jersey resident who peppers his Facebook feed with Yu-Gi-Oh! references, Magic the Gathering speak, and other geeky, pop culture talk. Bespectacled and somewhat unassuming at first glance, he comes off as a typical Rutgers University student.