CINSES TAYKUR KNEEDED

I spend a lot of time looking at census records. I also spend a lot of time alternately cursing or blessing the enumerators who interviewed our ancestors so many years ago. There are many times when I just know that I could have done a better job recording this data for future genealogists. So a few months ago I decided to apply for a job with the U.S. Census Bureau. My thinking was, why merely look at these documents when I could actually be creating them? And who knows, maybe I'll have an inside advantage and get to view the 1940 U.S. census before it's released to the public in 2012. Hey---that background check they put me through should be worth something!


Before I filled out an application I decided that I better do my own background check on the U.S. Census Bureau. Their website is colorful and alluring. I was promised "flexible hours, paid training, and the chance to work within your own community. You'll earn a place in history, as well as work experience you can add to your resume."

I really liked the part about being a part of history. Wow! Seventy-two years from now someone just like me will see my name at the top of some census form! They will praise my beautiful elementary school teacher's penmanship and the uncanny way that I inserted maiden name, birth city, and port of entry into this oft-insufficient instrument.

The website also informed me that as a census taker I'll play "a vital role" in helping to determine my representation in government. If there ever was a time that I felt misrepresented by my government, this is the time. Being told that "your community is counting on you!" and "opportunities like this don't happen every day!" was the final push I needed.



I showed up at Goodyear City Hall at the advertised time, only to be turned away (with many others) because I didn't have an appointment. Undeterred, I phoned the Phoenix office and after enduring some jokes about being "a Goodrich living in Goodyear" I was given a new testing date in Tolleson. I was told that I would be evaluated on my map skills. So I was very surprised to open up the test and find only a few questions in that category. I was tested on reading comprehension, organizational abilities, clerical skills and supervisor strategies. I was asked to define words like transcribe and controversial. Most of the math problems were basic operations with decimals, though some questions were a little more involved:

Your new cell phone battery needs to be charged for three hours and 45 minutes before using it. If you plugged the battery into the charger at 8:20 a.m., you should wait until what time before using it?

I was stunned that we were not tested on our handwriting legibility, our hearing acuity, our spelling accuracy, or our ability to know when a woman is lying about her age.

Richard, the Recruiting Assistant who was administering the test that day, kept reading something he called The Verbatim. I've never been read my Miranda Rights, but I imagine it sounding a lot like The Verbatim. We were told that we had to climb stairs, work in all kinds of neighborhoods, and had to be able to ask personal questions of strangers. He said that preference for jobs would be given to veterans, high test scorers, those that lived in neighborhoods that needed census takers, and those with bilingual abilities. I looked around the room and decided that the odds were against me. The only category I thought I had a chance at was to do well on the test. However, many people that afternoon were retaking the test, trying to get a higher score. I know as a teacher that each time you take a test you will do better.



After the Field Employee Selection Aid (i.e. test) was over and everyone else had left the room, I hung around to ask Richard some questions about the 2010 census itself. When he told me that it was going to be a very brief questionnaire, I just about decided that I did NOT want to be an enumerator. It made me irritated that there was going to be very little genealogical value to the 2010 census.

Then I noticed that he was stuffing his papers and things into this very unique bag. I paused for a moment: Had I ever seen a bag like that, even in a government surplus store? I realized that the only way to get that cool bag was to swallow my concerns and get the census job! I asked for my application back so I could make a few changes. I put down my availability to work as every day and night, even Sunday. Hopefully, I rationalized, the Lord will view census taking on the sabbath as a form of family history. I marked each box under the question How will you travel? (car, ATV, boat, plane or bicycle.) I let Richard know that I was a genealogist and that it was very important to me that the census was taken seriously.

This strategy (and the fact that I scored 100% on the test) seems to have paid off. Thursday, while on the road travelling to California, Michael from the U.S. Census Bureau phoned to ask me if I could start training on Tuesday! He read something that sounded a lot like The Verbatim that Richard had read to me last December. He told me to report to the Avondale DES office at 9:00 a.m. Being the consummate researcher that I am, I asked for the exact address. "Just a minute," Michael replied. "No one else has ever asked for that. I'll have to get it for you." I could tell by the admiration in his voice that I was practically supervisor material already.

When we got home I looked up the Department of Economic Security address on their website and compared it to the one Michael had given me. It was NOT a match! Not even close! Now I'm wondering if this misinformation is really a deliberate attempt to test my problem-solving abilities at finding a location. I'm convinced that locating Tuesday's training site is just the first challenge, of many more to come, that I will experience as an employee of the United States Census Bureau.



copyright 2009 by Kathleen Stewart Goodrich