second day on the job

Thursday we went out and canvassed in Brookline. I made my quota (i.e., raised enough money) so I made staff. Yesterday, Friday, we went back to do some different streets in Brookline.

This neighborhood where we were canvassing is swank. There are lots of rich white people, lots of Jews. I guess I won't go into detail here, but six teenage boys started following me around, asking me questions, and then they jumped me and stole my backpack. They were all really skinny, black, maybe around fifteen years old. From their questions and insults I determined that they thought I was twelve or thirteen, and they thought I was a little faggot.

I told them all I had was a $20 but they didn't believe me. One of them unstrapped my backpack from me and they all ran down the street, laughing. I stood up and watched them go.

This lady was walking down the street just then, some older white woman out walking her pug. She saw these kids running away. I picked up my clipboard, went over to her and told her what had happened, and asked if I could use her phone to call the police. I figured this had to be a well-policed neighborhood, and if there was a cop car nearby they could get my stuff back.

On the way to this woman's house, which was about a two minute walk, I realized that my passport was in the bag. I got really upset at that point, threw my clipboard on the ground, started cursing and freaking out about how I was going to lose my job because I needed to prove U.S. residency, and felt even more stupid. When we got to her place she called the cops for me: "Yes, there's a young boy here who just had his bag stolen by six older kids. His passport was in it, and . . ."

I thought about telling her, "Actually, I'm a woman in my twenties," but I really didn't want to make the entire situation weirder. She offered me water or limeade. I called Aba and told him I was jumped but okay, they took my cell, please cancel the service. Then a cop pulled up in front of the house and asked us some questions.

"They're not criminals," I told the cop. I already felt bad about calling the cops. "They're just some wanna-be thug kids."

Someone found Jason, and he found me at this woman's house. Apparently Jason has awesome people skills and is, in general, more awesome than I thought.

In total, these kids stole:

2 checks made out to the HRC
A jacket, about two years old
2 glass stones in the pocket (sentimental value)
A flier about Old English Country Dances at Harvard Square
A slingshot day planner and address book
My cell phone, also pretty damn old and beat up
A green umbrella
A pair of socks
My Class of 2006 Skidmore water bottle
My US passport
$20.00 in cash

Plus the backpack itself, which I really liked.

While the detective asked me questions, Jason was filling out my name on all my contribution forms. The woman who helped me came up and said, "Oh, you know, I have this contribution to the HRC that I haven't mailed yet . . . would it help if I gave it to you?"

So thanks to her, I actually made my quota for yesterday, if you count the stolen money. The woman is a saint, seriously. I also suspect that Jason slipped me some of his cons.

Overall, the entire incident was pretty stupid. It reminds me of my friend Charlie (one of the only other two Jews in my elementary school class, incidentally) getting jumped when we were in fourth or fifth grade. They said he'd gotten "mugged," which even then I thought sounded too professional. Right, like real professional criminals would rob a ten-year-old boy on the street. I mean . . . maybe some jackass adults would do that shit, but really, kids don't usually have much cash or valuables on them, so what's the point? Kids don't carry wallets, they don't have credit cards. Who would rob a kid?

Idiots, that's who. Other dumbass kids.

Sure, I believe in the cause . . .

But I wouldn't be here if I didn't need money.

So, the Fund finally got me . . . d'you know how many jobs from them I've gotten and then turned down over the years? Well, I'm gonna do this for now.

When I got to orientation I thought this kid RC was a dude, but wow, I wasn't looking closely, eh?! She's a stud. (Like a butch, but she doesn't like the connotations of that, which are apparently different where she comes from.) She's a stud and an "aggressive female" and, though we didn't discuss it further, she admitted that she looks 14 -- which actually she does not, unless you think she's a boy. RC reminds me of Krystle in certain ways, mainly her mild lewdness and extra-proud lesbian pride. Melissa seems really cool, and funny that I pegged her "lesbian gender" and she knows it, too. Then they asked me if I was a lesbian and that was real awkward.

Jason, the field manager, heard I was from Miami and told me about how he got arrested at the anti-FTAA protests. He also tried to be a gentleman to me by holding my fliers and then giving me the ones with a rubber band. On the plus side, he called this train conductor a bitch (for telling us she'd skip our stop! And then not actually doing it anyway) and then he immediately turned around and apologized to me. Yeah to the perks of being seen as a woman.

Matt, the director, reminds me of a couple other guys I know. I'm impressed that he'd move out here just for this job.

At one point Matt and I knocked on this door of a house with a beautiful garden that included a US flag, a pace rainbow flag, and a statue of the Virgin Mary. The folks who lived there were a couple, two white women in their seventies or eighties, wearing matching shades of lavendar. (I am not kidding.) They were really sweet and friendly. One of them asked me how old I was, to be out here like this, a young fellah like me.

"Em, ah, I'm twenty-two."

"Twenty-two! I never would've guessed! You need to grow yourself a beard or something."

I laughed, "Yeah."

And Matt turned so red. He is a blond-haired white boy from Wisconsin, and his entire face is apparently capable of flushing as bright as a tomato. I wonder if the lavendar women noticed.

When we left, he apologized to me, and I said it was no big deal, it was my life. I don't know why I didn't say something more . . . . useful.

At least Matt got over it, and didn't make a big deal out of every other house this happened with.

I raised a lot of money for a first-timer, they told me. So let's see if I can do this.