For better or worse, November was a helluva month. I wish I could say that it was most notable for my tranny self finally becoming employed again. Unfortunately, it's for how I came to be unemployed again.
After applying to only three places, I got a job wiping tables and maintaining restrooms at the mall food court.
Yay! Now I can finally work on getting my beard lasered and name changed! Fuck yeah! Connie and I can finally eat! Woo-hoo!
The application was really minimal. The interview wasn't "What can you do for us?" so much as "Great, you're obviously desperate enough if you applied. When can you start?"
I had my first day of paid employment as myself in a few days. Other than being really tired and sore after six hours of near-constant walking, I felt great. Self-sufficient even, as I was taking the bus and making it on time.
I was, at this point, perfectly successful in my social transition: I was finally living, working, and passing full-time in my true new gender, and quite happy doing it. Never mind that I was wiping Taco Bell and Steak Escape crumbs off formica tables for seven dollars an hour. This was the Transgender Dream in action.
The next day, I left copies of my right-to-work documents for the manager, and got to work, only to get a call in the morning regarding them.
"We have a problem." The manager had assumed I was legally female and had filled out my already submitted paperwork as such. My driver's license as of this writing still indicates otherwise.
"Would you like to be re-hired as a guy?"
"Yes, please do." The uniform was the same and as far as I could tell, there was no dress code otherwise. Of course they're not stupid enough to discriminate against me at this point, right?
After the manager's apparent conference with a couple office drones, I was so not re-hired as a guy. I was terminated on the spot simply for being legally male. Of course, it officially wasn't discrimination, as I angrily insisted, but my "inability to do the job." In any event, sex is a protected class. (Even though transgender status is not protected here in Wisconsin, there was recently an important precedent for going at it via the "sex" angle instead.)
Soooo, I filed a complaint with the Equal Rights Division at the advice of an attorney who said he thought I have a case for discrimination. If an arbitrator decides I have a case and there is no settlement, a hearing will be scheduled.
In the meantime, tranny for hire. Appleton area. Passable. Decent with computers and words. Can wipe tables.
Hi, I'm back, after the site was so rudely pulled down for lack of payment for most of April. (Damn the Man! *shakes fist*)
And the good news, which I've been dying to report since I began the site: I'm no longer unemployed! For the last half hour, I've been employed, even! I'll be pricing, er, pre-loved men's clothing.
And it couldn't have come at a more opportune moment. Connie and I couldn't afford the apartment here anymore, the lease is up in May, and I'd had a few of what felt like sure hires. But, er, weren't.
Connie's employers at the thrift store knew of our plan to move to West Virginia, and they wanted very badly not to lose Connie. She's very good at what she does there, and finding a replacement would take a long time.
However, there was an inconvenient company policy (which evidently the regional manager couldn't even override): they couldn't hire relatives, or people living in the same residence, at the same store. Bogus.
So, in desperation, the regional manager scored me an interview in the Oshkosh store, perhaps with a "nudge" to hire me. Connie's boss (and her boss) talked to her a little about my situation, including the gender thing.
I had my interview yesterday. I'd felt like it went well, but I was pessimistic after feeling sure I'd had other jobs. Again, I was wrong!
Unlike my previous attempt at earning a living, my employment with the thrift store is going swimmingly!
Workday seven ended at three, and I felt really good. There is considerable pressure for fast work, even for new recruits, and surprisingly, the job is so physical that I'm still feeling sore and worn. But what makes it totally worth it is the sense of accomplishment every day. (Also the cash.)
I pass well enough now that nobody on the staff, except the manager, suspects I grew up any differently. The whole gender thing has never been less of an issue! The manager doesn't pay it any mind at all, and she respects my preferred name fully, even adding it to my legal name on the time cards.
When filling out the paperwork my first day, I made sure she understood that I preferred that nobody know I'm trans, and she said she doesn't like firing people, but if anyone gives me any shit about that, they will be let go. (Just not in so many words.) Yay!
So as far as being a tranny at work goes, the situation is practically ideal. I have a very respectful, sympathetic manager, and my co-workers are unawares and as pleasant with me as anyone else. The only employee restroom is even non-gendered, despite having two stalls. Rawk.
(Besides all that, I can wear big hoop earrings, skirts/dresses, and spandex tops. And my nail polish can be as obnoxious as I want. Hee!)
This means that getting a signed note or whatever from the boss documenting that I worked a "significant" time presenting as myself (RLT requirement #2) shouldn't be difficult or awkward, and I'm concentrating on saving up for a legal name change (RLT requirement #3) as quickly as possible, so that even if this job doesn't work out, it will be far, far easier to get (and, ahem, KEEP) work in the future.
So maybe the proverbial Thai "vacation" isn't such a tiny, distant glimmer anymore. It's getting closer and closer. I can almost reach out and touch it.
This year's summer vacation, like the best I've ever had, was steeped in a little grit, and a lot of salty water. But it was the worst.
After getting laid off without warning a little over a couple weeks ago, I got really, really worried, and expected to go another long period without work or money. We couldn't afford this apartment any more (someone else was paying on the lease before I was hired), and the options for staying elsewhere for a while were, well, much fewer and less attractive than we'd thought.
For several days towards the end of my summer vacation, I stayed in an old haunt of mine I hadn't seen for a couple years, a place I call The Deep. I can't recommend this place any less, especially without all the swirly colors, and strange thoughts and visions I used to freshen it up with during earlier stays. Try the Hilton instead. Or solitary.
Until that point, I hadn't been suicidal since I decided to transition, a subject for another time. But I've learned by now to see that situation coming a mile away, and it was out on the patio. I nearly checked myself in one night, but decided to ride it out (burying my head in video games, graphics software, and YouTube) for at least the evening in an attempt to save five grand.
Connie then asked her boss if she could transfer to another store while I worked at that one. After an initial answer of no, she was moved to the store I'd been working at, and I was rehired doing kids' clothes again at her store. Full time, even! Yay!
A lot of my old coworkers are there too, and I received a welcome back on my first day back that really melted my heart. But while it's a great feeling to be working again at all, I think I'm going to use my "currently employed" status to try and find something a little less physical and high-speed. It really is rough.
Until then, the vacation is over, and everything is back to to normal, or as "normal" as can be expected in my situation, anyway. I'm preparing my upper lip for laser hair removal, saving up for a name change, and passing very, very well these days. The vacation from my vacation has been great so far, and looks even more promising!
I was struggling to keep my job. Not that there was any danger of me being fired, but I was going through sort of a c'mon, Milla, hang in there just until you find something else thing on a daily basis.
But I was employed, functional, passing, and even quickly getting rid of my damn facial hair.
I felt as though my transition was really finally taking off. I envisioned myself straddling a red rocket straight out of a violent cartoon. It roared upwards for that big Suporn Clinic in the sky, the final stop in my journey to selfhood. (Yes, I'm a lunatic.)
The rocket was an Acme product.
Right after I began to develop shoulder bursitis, I was moved from children's pricing to the "cashier" position, which actually involved even more carrying and lifting of clothes. This in itself wasn't quite enough to make me tell the bosses to shove it, but I sniffled through one full day, after which my bursitis was so aggravated by being a "cashier", I just called in and quit the next morning, without notice.
Fuckers.
Meanwhile, a mysterious thrift store customer whose name I won't reveal here (but it starts with T and rhymes with Tom) had been talking to and visiting Connie at work at the other store. I'll refer to this person as "Tom" so as not to reveal that his name is Thomas.
Tom kept visiting Connie. Our relationship had previously been declared open and undefined. I'd already visited and started considering Mike and Melissa here in Chicago my partners. Connie seemed bemused but oddly non-creeped-out by Tom's visits. Eventually, she wanted to "find out why" he was doing this, and they went out for coffee.
Be sure to tune in next time for the exciting conclusion!
For better or worse, November was a helluva month. I wish I could say that it was most notable for my tranny self finally becoming employed again. Unfortunately, it's for how I came to be unemployed again.
After applying to only three places, I got a job wiping tables and maintaining restrooms at the mall food court.
Yay! Now I can finally work on getting my beard lasered and name changed! Fuck yeah! Connie and I can finally eat! Woo-hoo!
The application was really minimal. The interview wasn't "What can you do for us?" so much as "Great, you're obviously desperate enough if you applied. When can you start?"
I had my first day of paid employment as myself in a few days. Other than being really tired and sore after six hours of near-constant walking, I felt great. Self-sufficient even, as I was taking the bus and making it on time.
I was, at this point, perfectly successful in my social transition: I was finally living, working, and passing full-time in my true new gender, and quite happy doing it. Never mind that I was wiping Taco Bell and Steak Escape crumbs off formica tables for seven dollars an hour. This was the Transgender Dream in action.
The next day, I left copies of my right-to-work documents for the manager, and got to work, only to get a call in the morning regarding them.
"We have a problem." The manager had assumed I was legally female and had filled out my already submitted paperwork as such. My driver's license as of this writing still indicates otherwise.
"Would you like to be re-hired as a guy?"
"Yes, please do." The uniform was the same and as far as I could tell, there was no dress code otherwise. Of course they're not stupid enough to discriminate against me at this point, right?
After the manager's apparent conference with a couple office drones, I was so not re-hired as a guy. I was terminated on the spot simply for being legally male. Of course, it officially wasn't discrimination, as I angrily insisted, but my "inability to do the job." In any event, sex is a protected class. (Even though transgender status is not protected here in Wisconsin, there was recently an important precedent for going at it via the "sex" angle instead.)
Soooo, I filed a complaint with the Equal Rights Division at the advice of an attorney who said he thought I have a case for discrimination. If an arbitrator decides I have a case and there is no settlement, a hearing will be scheduled.
In the meantime, tranny for hire. Appleton area. Passable. Decent with computers and words. Can wipe tables.
Posted in discrimination, employment by Milla | Comments (3)
Hi, I'm back, after the site was so rudely pulled down for lack of payment for most of April. (Damn the Man! *shakes fist*)
And the good news, which I've been dying to report since I began the site: I'm no longer unemployed! For the last half hour, I've been employed, even! I'll be pricing, er, pre-loved men's clothing.
And it couldn't have come at a more opportune moment. Connie and I couldn't afford the apartment here anymore, the lease is up in May, and I'd had a few of what felt like sure hires. But, er, weren't.
Connie's employers at the thrift store knew of our plan to move to West Virginia, and they wanted very badly not to lose Connie. She's very good at what she does there, and finding a replacement would take a long time.
However, there was an inconvenient company policy (which evidently the regional manager couldn't even override): they couldn't hire relatives, or people living in the same residence, at the same store. Bogus.
So, in desperation, the regional manager scored me an interview in the Oshkosh store, perhaps with a "nudge" to hire me. Connie's boss (and her boss) talked to her a little about my situation, including the gender thing.
I had my interview yesterday. I'd felt like it went well, but I was pessimistic after feeling sure I'd had other jobs. Again, I was wrong!
Praise Bog, I was wrong!
Posted in employment by Milla | Comments (4)
Unlike my previous attempt at earning a living, my employment with the thrift store is going swimmingly!
Workday seven ended at three, and I felt really good. There is considerable pressure for fast work, even for new recruits, and surprisingly, the job is so physical that I'm still feeling sore and worn. But what makes it totally worth it is the sense of accomplishment every day. (Also the cash.)
I pass well enough now that nobody on the staff, except the manager, suspects I grew up any differently. The whole gender thing has never been less of an issue! The manager doesn't pay it any mind at all, and she respects my preferred name fully, even adding it to my legal name on the time cards.
When filling out the paperwork my first day, I made sure she understood that I preferred that nobody know I'm trans, and she said she doesn't like firing people, but if anyone gives me any shit about that, they will be let go. (Just not in so many words.) Yay!
So as far as being a tranny at work goes, the situation is practically ideal. I have a very respectful, sympathetic manager, and my co-workers are unawares and as pleasant with me as anyone else. The only employee restroom is even non-gendered, despite having two stalls. Rawk.
(Besides all that, I can wear big hoop earrings, skirts/dresses, and spandex tops. And my nail polish can be as obnoxious as I want. Hee!)
This means that getting a signed note or whatever from the boss documenting that I worked a "significant" time presenting as myself (RLT requirement #2) shouldn't be difficult or awkward, and I'm concentrating on saving up for a legal name change (RLT requirement #3) as quickly as possible, so that even if this job doesn't work out, it will be far, far easier to get (and, ahem, KEEP) work in the future.
So maybe the proverbial Thai "vacation" isn't such a tiny, distant glimmer anymore. It's getting closer and closer. I can almost reach out and touch it.
Yeek, sorry for the triple pun in the title.
Posted in employment, transition by Milla | Comments (3)
This year's summer vacation, like the best I've ever had, was steeped in a little grit, and a lot of salty water. But it was the worst.
After getting laid off without warning a little over a couple weeks ago, I got really, really worried, and expected to go another long period without work or money. We couldn't afford this apartment any more (someone else was paying on the lease before I was hired), and the options for staying elsewhere for a while were, well, much fewer and less attractive than we'd thought.
For several days towards the end of my summer vacation, I stayed in an old haunt of mine I hadn't seen for a couple years, a place I call The Deep. I can't recommend this place any less, especially without all the swirly colors, and strange thoughts and visions I used to freshen it up with during earlier stays. Try the Hilton instead. Or solitary.
Until that point, I hadn't been suicidal since I decided to transition, a subject for another time. But I've learned by now to see that situation coming a mile away, and it was out on the patio. I nearly checked myself in one night, but decided to ride it out (burying my head in video games, graphics software, and YouTube) for at least the evening in an attempt to save five grand.
Connie then asked her boss if she could transfer to another store while I worked at that one. After an initial answer of no, she was moved to the store I'd been working at, and I was rehired doing kids' clothes again at her store. Full time, even! Yay!
A lot of my old coworkers are there too, and I received a welcome back on my first day back that really melted my heart. But while it's a great feeling to be working again at all, I think I'm going to use my "currently employed" status to try and find something a little less physical and high-speed. It really is rough.
Until then, the vacation is over, and everything is back to to normal, or as "normal" as can be expected in my situation, anyway. I'm preparing my upper lip for laser hair removal, saving up for a name change, and passing very, very well these days. The vacation from my vacation has been great so far, and looks even more promising!
Posted in employment, misc by Milla | Comments (2)
So, yeah. Back to the bit where my life got flipped, turned upside down, for only the 17th time in three years.
Holy shit. "Ian" died three years ago and came out to her mother, almost to the day.
I was struggling to keep my job. Not that there was any danger of me being fired, but I was going through sort of a c'mon, Milla, hang in there just until you find something else thing on a daily basis.
But I was employed, functional, passing, and even quickly getting rid of my damn facial hair.
I felt as though my transition was really finally taking off. I envisioned myself straddling a red rocket straight out of a violent cartoon. It roared upwards for that big Suporn Clinic in the sky, the final stop in my journey to selfhood. (Yes, I'm a lunatic.)
The rocket was an Acme product.
Right after I began to develop shoulder bursitis, I was moved from children's pricing to the "cashier" position, which actually involved even more carrying and lifting of clothes. This in itself wasn't quite enough to make me tell the bosses to shove it, but I sniffled through one full day, after which my bursitis was so aggravated by being a "cashier", I just called in and quit the next morning, without notice.
Fuckers.
Meanwhile, a mysterious thrift store customer whose name I won't reveal here (but it starts with T and rhymes with Tom) had been talking to and visiting Connie at work at the other store. I'll refer to this person as "Tom" so as not to reveal that his name is Thomas.
Tom kept visiting Connie. Our relationship had previously been declared open and undefined. I'd already visited and started considering Mike and Melissa here in Chicago my partners. Connie seemed bemused but oddly non-creeped-out by Tom's visits. Eventually, she wanted to "find out why" he was doing this, and they went out for coffee.
Be sure to tune in next time for the exciting conclusion!
Posted in employment, misc, relationships by Milla | Comments (1)