There will be no apologies whatsoever for my recourse to racially and sectorally inflammatory language. Unlike Paula Deen, I take ownership of my use of racial tropes. Also unlike Paula Deen, I use them to sharpen what I consider relevant points and send the weasels running for cover, or at worst to Godwinize the discourse for shits and giggles; I do not use them to inquire about where on earth all the good house niggers have gone, and then frantically offer abjectly disingenuous apologies when cornered by those who don’t care for that retrograde Savannah planter thang.

It’s relevant language even if I’ll be working with a bunch of Mexicans and for some other Mexicans. The lead manager who hired me yesterday, a white enough fellow himself, told me that most of the white people he hires don’t last very long in the vineyards, some of them not even an hour. He seems to share my confidence that I’m not that White, and that I have a pretty good idea of the working conditions since I’ve done the same kinds of work for Farmer Uncle and I know my way around wine grapes. What he has described sounds concerted but not grueling for someone in decent shape. Thankfully, the hours aren’t as long as I had feared.

This may be the most sensible hiring process I’ve ever encountered. I called the office yesterday afternoon and asked whether the company was still hiring, then swung by at the lead manager’s invitation for a spot interview and to complete my paperwork, and left with a job offer and contact information for the lead manager and the field manager he intended to have supervise me. The lead manager called me this afternoon to tell me that the work at the vineyard where he had planned to assign me had been suspended at the estate owner’s request on account of recent heavy rain, but that he could put me on the schedule for tomorrow morning at a different vineyard where the crew is short a few hands. I’ll be reporting to a grocery store parking lot in the underbelly of the Willamette Valley wine country at 6:15 am. As underbellies go, it isn’t a bad one, but it’s still seedy and downmarket compared to the places esteemed at Alma Mater, Tried and True. Noble I ain’t.

For a victim of long-term unemployment like me, this timeline is amazing. I had a firm job offer within about half an hour of first calling the lead manager. The interview lasted less than forty minutes, most of it devoted to completing paperwork, going over company policies, and discussing technical aspects of the work. If there was any bullshit, it was undetectable, and I have a sensitive, finely tuned bullshit detector. Barely 24 hours after receiving an offer, I was on the schedule with a reporting time thirteen hours hence. This means that I’ll be on the clock less than forty hours after first contact with my new employer. There have been some glitches and eleventh-hour schedule changes in the midst of all this, but they’ve been sorted out more quickly and painlessly than many HR managers can reorient themselves for their next round of bullshit artistry. It’s refreshing to deal with someone who doesn’t get terribly hung up on mistakes but also promptly admits to and corrects them.

I’ve dealt with the opposite extreme, the kind of people who ostentatiously apologize for yawning or calling me “ma’am” because I had knocked softly but who are thoroughly nasty fuckers in every meaningful regard. In her defense, the latter lady may have been a bit mentally unstable. She sent out office-wide e-mails at all hours of the day and night, terrorized all but one of my (weirder) colleagues, and she once made unfulfillable offers to a client in a state of delirium after having pretended to work for 36 hours straight and then driven two hours to a site visit. She was also morbidly obese, with a secret stash of candy that she hid under a bunch of papers. A merely chubby colleague of hers had a hearty candy stash of his own, but he openly pulled M&M’s from a drawer and chain-popped them in front of me when he got stressed. That kind of thing passes for living in truth in the corporate workplace.

I need to be up and out six hours from now. We’ll see how it goes.

We’ll also see how it goes for Paula Deen as she tries to reassure everyone that, now, now, honey, I’m not a racist, y’all.

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