Monday, January 09, 2006
Hello Dolly
I wrote this last week, on my way home from work. I offer it in honor and support of Connie, one of the most wonderful people in the world. If it evokes anything positive in you at all, send some of it her way. She’s going to need plenty of it, and no one deserves it more.
Today was my last office day before hitting up the family leave gravytrain. I know Zach’s going to be an absolute handful-and-a-half, and I’ve got all kinds of unrealistic goals for us and for me and for the house. I’ll be exhausted by the time I go back to work in February, but damn, it will be so worth it to be in a dynamic duo with the Zakster.
This wouldn’t be possible for me if California didn’t have paid family leave. I’ll get half my salary for up to six weeks - time that I can split between bonding with a new kid or caring for an infirm relative. It’s the closest thing we’ve got to Euro-style family support, and I’ll be taking full advantage of it.
To which end: today I called up the State agency in charge of paying me my stipend, to confirm some numbers with them. I’d called them last week to make sure I was filling out my paperwork correctly, and my bureaucratic contact, one “Dolly”, and I spoke for some time about the details of my claim. She wanted to know my income so they could compensate me properly, and I promised to call her back with the exact figures. She gave me her direct call-in number so I could take care of this detail a little more quickly.
Well, I screwed up and failed to call her the next day as I’d promised; the day after that I was already on the road on vacation, but I tried her number from the airport. A machine answered for her, generically. I left my message but lacked confidence that it would reach her. I tried to call her a few more times while on the road but to no avail - the answering message was unchanged, and it also seemed to reference someone else’s phone number. I was growing frustrated with this arm of the bureaucracy, even though it was so manifestly designed to operate to my advantage.
I tried her one more time today as I was preparing to mail in my paperwork, and lo and behold, “Dolly” answered. As before, hers was not a youthful or cheerful voice, but this time she sounded a bit more worn than she had in our previous conversation. We chatted a bit and I mentioned my prior attempts to reach her.
“I’ve been out for a while.”
“Well, welcome back, I hope the new year is treating you right.”
“Hm. Well, anyway. I’m not feeling too well.”
“What are you doing at work, then? You should be at home, resting and getting healthy!”
“Oh, um, that’s not going to happen. But anway, I couldn’t stand to be at home any longer. It’s better to get out and think about something else after a while. Help others if you can’t help yourself.”
My mouth flapped; no words came out of it. Eventually I stammered something about building up strength by engaging with the world, but we both heard the hollowness of my enunciations. Dolly steered me back to the purpose of my call. I told her my gross income for two weeks and we decided to divide that by 14, then multiply by 30 to get a monthly figure. We both did the math; she got it wrong the first time through so we tried it again. As she recognized her error I could sense her rueful smile over the phone line. She felt poorly and was messing up at work. Still, it was better than staying at home and just waiting for whatever was happening to her to run its course.
We concluded our business and I said my farewells, grateful for her help in making it possible for me to stay home for five weeks with a small child so full of life that it overwhelms me every time I see him. She accepted my thanks with a tired voice. I told her to take care; she almost scoffed as she responded with “Goodbye.” It sounded like she really meant it.
So this family leave period, I’ll be playing with an amazing, joyful, handsome and strong baby for 38 days straight. But every so often, I’m going to remember Dolly, and send a little of that life her way too. She’s made herself part of the process, and it just seems to me that turn about is fair play.
