I got a job as an Archeological Field Worker with the National Park Service.
It was a 180-day appointment. That is, temporary. That is, no benefits.
As we were working out of town, we got per diem, but they rented a motel
and provided room and board and confiscated our per diem and used the money
for other purposes. To fund other digs. To buy equipment. I don’t know.
It was easier for all concerned. Except for us. We got screwed. It was a
condition of employment. If you objected, you didn’t get hired because
you weren’t a team player. You were a Bolshevik. You got a troublemaker
jacket hung on you. You weren’t blacklisted. You just didn’t get hired.
They fed us. They housed us. We should be grateful to have a job.
I was. The principal investigator was a woman. She hired a woman friend
for her crew chief who didn’t have as much experience as the other members of
the crew. She wanted to get on permanent, and needed supervisory experience.
So did the two men she’d be giving orders to. The woman in charge asked me if I
objected to taking orders from a woman and I said, “Not if she knows what
she’s talking about,” or, “Not if she’s more qualified than I am.”
It was the wrong answer. I made them nervous. I failed the test.
“No,” I said. “I don’t mind. No problem.”
That was the proper response. Me and the other two
crew members carried her. She got the slot. She got
the promotion. She got on permanent. Who would want to get
a job like that? Who would accept favoritism? Special treatment?
Plenty of people. You’d be surprised. They think we’re the losers.
We didn’t lose, we were cheated. Who doesn’t know this? She sat in the car
with the heater on and made notes in the field book. She acted like a girl. I wouldn’t
fuck her with a cab-driver’s dick. That’s tiresome macho bullshit. You’re in jail.
Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. I was glad to have a job. I kept my trap shut.