All's fair in love and bad yelp reviews: My Life and the US Census

So I guess it's only fitting that the fourth anniversary of my first day of Basic Training should be marked by a good old fashioned bitch-slapping by someone who doesn't get paid enough to get that angry.

Last night, I got a call from my 5'1", pregnant enumerator who was in tears because she got yelled at by the doorman of an apartment building she was trying to enumerate. As this wasn't the first time this apartment has given us trouble and as I was fairly pissed, I marched over, crocodile heels and all, to figure out what kind of class A idiot yells at a woman who looks like she is five minutes and one spicy meal away from labor. Luckily for us both, the doorman had gone home for the day and I was left to ponder how I really should wear flats given my foot condition, and flirt with the middle age, balding men who walked in and out of the lobby in hopes of finding out more information about the building association.

This morning, I called the realtor and received a chewing-out that would have done my TI proud. They don't want to be harassed, how dare I, insert your favorite cuss word, etc. Feeling slightly put out, I seethed quietly for about five minutes before calling the enumerator in question and making a battle plan. By the way, I think the word seethed may be an onamonapia judging by my the sounds emitted during my calming down session.

This afternoon, I braced myself for another ass-kicking as I had to call back what the census calls a "reluctant respondent", i.e they were so mean to the original enumerator that it is now my unhappy job to cajole them into acting like a human instead of a fiercely rapid dog. At first, Bob* wasn't too happy to hear from me. However, I tried to make a few jokes and by the time we reached "How old were you on April 1, 2010?", Bob was clearly enjoying himself. After deploring the idea that other people would be mean to enumerators, he asked me how old I was on April 1, 2010. When I responded "23, by 1 day", he proceeded to tell me that unfortunately, we couldn't date because he had just learned that there's a rule about how young is too young. You divide your own age in half and add seven. Since he was 42, I was simply too young. The funny thing is, I just learned about that rule too, from last weeks episode of "Parks and Recreation".

The interview progressed and at the last question, in an attempt to be humorous I asked "Now Bob, hopefully someone won't call back, but if they decide to verify my work to make sure I'm not sitting in a bar somewhere writing down random names, what's the best number to reach you?" At this Bob asks, "What bar are you at? I'll come down and buy you a drink. You sound fun". I laughed my most "I swear I'm not creeped out" laugh and hurriedly ended the conversation but not before Bob reminded me that he now had my telephone number.

As I drove home, I felt this weird sense of deja vu until I realized that that exact scenario, weird respondent asks out woman interviewing him over the phone, had occurred in last weeks episode of "Parks and Recreation". Apparently Bob and I have more in common than I thought.