I was new in New York. This was mid 80's. All I know about subways and trains was that I must not take any other train aside from the Path Train which I should take at the Journal Square in Jersey City, then off at either World Trade Centre, or 33rd Street.
My housemates told me never to take an independent line because they'd never know where to find me.
That was a scary second day out of Midwest and sleepy Ohio.
Yes, it was my second day and I had to find a job fast. If not, I would have to go to Chicago, where my sister had a friend with whom I could bunk temporarily. Well, Chicago was my port of entry when I first went to the U.S. and I didn't have any qualms settling there, but fate intervened because at the time I left Ohio, my sister's friend was vacationing in P.I.
I actually got off at 33rd street and walked along 5th Avenue. I had with me a copy of the New York Times and the Daily News classifieds. I kept on walking and stopping at addresses which I had encircled from the ads.
When it was all over, I had to retrace my way back to 33rd street, near Macy's, where the Path Train was. My feet had blisters.
On the train, I took off my shoes. No one minded, because New Yorkers or New Jerseyans were so used to this kind of stuff, and many more unusual kind.
After this, I applied for any job - groceries, electronics store, even a small merchandising outlet owned by a Filipino-Indian. But I didn't have any retail experience and it must have shown in the interview.
Finally, after a week, one of my housemates accompanied me to a temporary employment agency just a few blocks from the World Trade Centre. There, I was given a simple I.Q. test and when I got home in the afternoon, the agency called me to start work the following day.
My first job in Manhattan was doing data entry for a New York government agency which dealt with placing abused kids into foster care. So, I got to read cases of incest and other heart rending stories of family violence, which I totally abhorred.
During lunch break, I would go from one employment agency to another applying for a more exciting and permanent job. It must have been on my second month in New York when a big law firm hired me.
It was not a dream job, but it was a dream corporation. I was working for one of the top five law firms in New York, analyzing and digesting legal documents into a computer data base. The client roster read like a page of Dunn and Bradstreet, representing brokerage firms, banks, and individual clients whom I'd read in the papers. Pay was good, benefits were tops and there were two bonuses in a year, mid and December.
The firm was housed first in the Reserve Bank of New York area, well within Wall Street, and then moved uptown, in 57th.
My NY breakfast consisted of a bagel with cream cheese and coffee, which cost about dollar and some change. Lunch was usually at a Chinese restaurant where they weighed your purchase from a salad bar. Later on, breakfast would be ordered from the office cafeteria which looked like a huge restaurant, and lunch would be in any of the restaurants dotting 57th, from American food, to Chinese and Thai.
I started to have NY friends, two Filipinos in the office, a Vietnam guy, a Jamaican, an Italian who lived in Brooklyn and who used to invite me over at Thanksgiving, and an Irish with an Indian mate.
Lunch time also meant walking while eating if I wanted to shop at Macy's on Wednesdays, or if I wanted to go to mass at St. Patrick's, or to go to the New York Library.
I also learned about subways and other trains from New Jersey. I could travel at this time to central New Jersey, feeling comfortable sleeping on the train.
Then some mornings, walking from the Bus station, from 42nd up to 57th, I'd see remnants of the New York underprivileged class - prostitutes (female and trans) doing a last minute sell, or the homeless changing clothes in the streets and warming themselves on open fire.
But then, I'd also see these homeless ones inside the church.
Life was wonderful. New York had been truly friendly with me.
No comments:
Post a Comment