Working in the Korvette's department store was different than working in a skyscraper office and sitting behind a desk, shuffling papers, answering telephones, typing meaningless business correspondence or adding up meaningless numbers for seven hours a day--although not that much more interesting.
Working at Korvette's in the "habo" department meant you had to stay more dressed-up each day after the first week of work than you did when you did clerical-typist work in a skyscraper office; and that--unlike in a skyscraper office--you had to punch your time card into a time clock when you arrived at work, went to lunch and left work each day.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Queens County Revisited: The 1970's (14)
Between 1960 and 1962, when I was active in my local Boy Scout troop, I used to hike through "the pit" from time to time with other members of my Boy Scout patrol, on the way to hiking on the various nature trails in Alley Pond Park, whose forests were only a few miles away from the Beech Hills garden apartment development in which I then lived.
But between 1962 and the early 1970s, some real estate developers had apparently purchased all the land in "the pit" in order to replace the nature scenery and wildlife there with a development of plastic-looking private homes, a big parking lot and construction there of a the big Korvette's discount department store in which I was now working at during the Christmas shopping season. So by the 1970s, few people in Queens seemed to remember that "the pit" had ever been there in the 1950's and early 1960's.
But between 1962 and the early 1970s, some real estate developers had apparently purchased all the land in "the pit" in order to replace the nature scenery and wildlife there with a development of plastic-looking private homes, a big parking lot and construction there of a the big Korvette's discount department store in which I was now working at during the Christmas shopping season. So by the 1970s, few people in Queens seemed to remember that "the pit" had ever been there in the 1950's and early 1960's.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Queens County Revisited: The 1970's (13)
Fortunately for me, the post-Thanksgiving Christmas shopping season was beginning and department stores in the New York City area were still hiring temporary help for the Christmas season in the days following my winter coat mix-up incident. So I quickly landed a temporary part-time sales clerk/packing job in the haberdashery or "habo" department of the now-defunct Korvette's discount department store in Douglaston, Queens--in the same neighborhood where I had spent most of my childhood growing up in during the 1950's and early 1960's.
In the 1950's and the early 1960's, the area across 61st Avenue and just south of the Beech Hills garden apartment development in which I then lived and west of a then-private golf course--the North Hills Country Club--was called "the pit." And above "the pit," adjacent to the west fence of the private golf course, was the edge of a wide hill that was called "the cliff" by neighvorhood kids.
In the 1950's and the early 1960's, the area across 61st Avenue and just south of the Beech Hills garden apartment development in which I then lived and west of a then-private golf course--the North Hills Country Club--was called "the pit." And above "the pit," adjacent to the west fence of the private golf course, was the edge of a wide hill that was called "the cliff" by neighvorhood kids.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Queens County Revisited: The 1970s (12)
Not surprisingly, the temp agency counselor told me to immediately bring the winter coat and keys back downtown to her Wall Street client's office. And after I arrived there, apologized for my mistake, handed the white male executive--who appeared to be in his early 30s--his keys and exchanged winter coats with him, he still seemed pissed that "because of me" he had been left without car keys and home keys during his Thanksgiving holiday; and I was then told the assignment for me at his firm had ended.
Although I found the winter coat mix-up amusing and started laughing after I left the Wall Street office skyscraper and felt, on a certain anti-classist level, some glee that the mix-up had took some of the fun out of the holiday weekend of a Wall Street firm executive (who was possibly gaining his money from profiting from the sale of stock in U.S. corporations that exploit working-class people and middle-class consumers), because of the winter coat mix-up incident, the female temp agency placement officer in her late 20s and her Landmark temp agency no longer was willing to provide me with any new temp typing assignments during the 1970s.
Although I found the winter coat mix-up amusing and started laughing after I left the Wall Street office skyscraper and felt, on a certain anti-classist level, some glee that the mix-up had took some of the fun out of the holiday weekend of a Wall Street firm executive (who was possibly gaining his money from profiting from the sale of stock in U.S. corporations that exploit working-class people and middle-class consumers), because of the winter coat mix-up incident, the female temp agency placement officer in her late 20s and her Landmark temp agency no longer was willing to provide me with any new temp typing assignments during the 1970s.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Queens County Revisited: The 1970s (11)
Because by that time in November the weather was wintry-cold that year in New York City, besides "dressing corporate" and culturally straight in a suit and tie, I also had worn a winter coat to work. And after I arrived at work each day, I hung my winter coat on a hanger in the Wall Street stock brokerage firm office's coat closet, next to the coats of the permanent employees, including the coats of the firm's white male executives.
So on the Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving, I went to the firm's coat closet, took what I thought was my own winter coat, and left the office for the 4-day holiday weekend. But it turned out that, by mistake, I had taken home from the coat hanger and worn a winter coat of one of the firm's white male executives, who was about the same size as me; because his coat--if you didn't notice the inside label--looked very much like the cheaper winter coat that I had mistaken it for. And inside one of the pockets of the white male executive's winter coat I had mistakenly thought was my coat, were the keys of the white male executive.
Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I realized that I had mistakenly taken the white male Wall Street executive's winter coat instead of my own coat and also now had his keys. But since both the office of the temp agency I worked for and the Wall Street office of the temp agency's client that I had worked for were closed until the Monday after Thanksgiving--and neither the temp agency nor the temp agency's client yet used answering or voice mail to record phone calls when their offices were closed in the 1970s--I had to wait until the Monday morning to contact my temp agency placement counselor and let her know what had happened.
So on the Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving, I went to the firm's coat closet, took what I thought was my own winter coat, and left the office for the 4-day holiday weekend. But it turned out that, by mistake, I had taken home from the coat hanger and worn a winter coat of one of the firm's white male executives, who was about the same size as me; because his coat--if you didn't notice the inside label--looked very much like the cheaper winter coat that I had mistaken it for. And inside one of the pockets of the white male executive's winter coat I had mistakenly thought was my coat, were the keys of the white male executive.
Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I realized that I had mistakenly taken the white male Wall Street executive's winter coat instead of my own coat and also now had his keys. But since both the office of the temp agency I worked for and the Wall Street office of the temp agency's client that I had worked for were closed until the Monday after Thanksgiving--and neither the temp agency nor the temp agency's client yet used answering or voice mail to record phone calls when their offices were closed in the 1970s--I had to wait until the Monday morning to contact my temp agency placement counselor and let her know what had happened.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Queens County Revisited: The 1970s (10)
Because the Playtex client had been pleased enough with my temp typing work so that my work assignment at Playtex lasted for more than a few weeks, the white woman temp agency counselor in her late 20s was not reluctant to send me out on a few more short temp typing job assignments, most of which I can no longer remember much about--except for the final temp job assignment, which only lasted for 3 days.
The 4-day Thanksgiving holiday break in this particular year arrived much earlier in November than in other years; and during the three weekdays before Thanksgiving, I was assigned to do temp typing work in some stock brokerage firm in a Wall Street area skyscraper office, whose name I no longer remember.
The 4-day Thanksgiving holiday break in this particular year arrived much earlier in November than in other years; and during the three weekdays before Thanksgiving, I was assigned to do temp typing work in some stock brokerage firm in a Wall Street area skyscraper office, whose name I no longer remember.
Friday, February 6, 2015
Queens County Revisited: The 1970s (9)
Occasionally, on weekends in the 1970s I would hop on a bus to check out a U.S. campus scene that I had never visited before. I can recall visiting SUNY-New Paltz on one Friday night, where I walked onto the campus and snuck into a rock concert that was being held in one of the campus buildings, before hanging out for awhile at a local bar on New Paltz's main street and then catching the last bus going back down to New York City that night.
On another weekend, I hopped on a bus down to Philadelphia one Saturday to walk around and check out the University of Pennsylvania campus in West Philadelphia. And on a third weekend, I took a long bus ride down to College Park, Maryland to walk around the University of Maryland campus for about an hour before catching a bus back up to New York City later in the afternoon on that same day. And another time, I hopped on a bus going from New York City to Boston, walked around the South End for an hour and then took the next bus that was leaving Boston for New York City that evening.
In the 1970s, the Greyhound bus fares were still cheaper than they would become in the 1980s and 1990s--before competing bus firms like Mega-bus and the Chinatown companies eventually pushed the cost of bus fares on certain routes that college students rode on frequently back down in the 21st century.
Also, I can recall hopping on the Long Island Railroad one Friday night after work in the 1970s, getting off at the SUNY-Stony Brook stop, walking around the SUNY-Stony Brook campus for about an hour and then catching the last LIRR train that was returning to Queens that same night.
All these early 1970s campus visits pretty much reconfirmed my feeling that "we were back in the 1950s again" in the 1970s, as far as campus unrest and political activism was concerned--despite all that had happened during the 1960s on U.S. campuses in the way of student revolt. And I even wrote a folk song whose lyrics I've now forgotten, titled "Back In The Fifties Again," which had a melody that resembled somewhat the tune for the "Back In The Saddle Again" cowboy song that Gene Autry used to sing.
Neither the 9-to-5 work world nor the campus world in the 1970s now reflected any large mass-based support for a 1970s New Left revolution in the United States. The "dream" was indeed "over" by the mid-1970s, to paraphrase John Lennon's words. And by the middle 1970s, all I had to look forward to was many more decades of 9-to-5 wage enslavement as a low-wage temp office worker.
On another weekend, I hopped on a bus down to Philadelphia one Saturday to walk around and check out the University of Pennsylvania campus in West Philadelphia. And on a third weekend, I took a long bus ride down to College Park, Maryland to walk around the University of Maryland campus for about an hour before catching a bus back up to New York City later in the afternoon on that same day. And another time, I hopped on a bus going from New York City to Boston, walked around the South End for an hour and then took the next bus that was leaving Boston for New York City that evening.
In the 1970s, the Greyhound bus fares were still cheaper than they would become in the 1980s and 1990s--before competing bus firms like Mega-bus and the Chinatown companies eventually pushed the cost of bus fares on certain routes that college students rode on frequently back down in the 21st century.
Also, I can recall hopping on the Long Island Railroad one Friday night after work in the 1970s, getting off at the SUNY-Stony Brook stop, walking around the SUNY-Stony Brook campus for about an hour and then catching the last LIRR train that was returning to Queens that same night.
All these early 1970s campus visits pretty much reconfirmed my feeling that "we were back in the 1950s again" in the 1970s, as far as campus unrest and political activism was concerned--despite all that had happened during the 1960s on U.S. campuses in the way of student revolt. And I even wrote a folk song whose lyrics I've now forgotten, titled "Back In The Fifties Again," which had a melody that resembled somewhat the tune for the "Back In The Saddle Again" cowboy song that Gene Autry used to sing.
Neither the 9-to-5 work world nor the campus world in the 1970s now reflected any large mass-based support for a 1970s New Left revolution in the United States. The "dream" was indeed "over" by the mid-1970s, to paraphrase John Lennon's words. And by the middle 1970s, all I had to look forward to was many more decades of 9-to-5 wage enslavement as a low-wage temp office worker.
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