produce day

My pants are sticky with apple drippings and there are mushroom remnants under my fingernails & sushi is for dinner tonight; things are okay.

today is produce day at work: 2 hours of distributing free produce. Half of me loves produce day: it is satisfying to hand food directly to people who need it. The folks who show up, mainly elderly immigrants, are nice to me & we make jokes in their limited English and my non-existant Russian & Vietnamese. One of them gave me a dollar for helping her get garbage bags full of potatoes, spinach, and artichokes to her car. The morning goes quickly & there is enough work for my interns to do.

. . . but it can be frustrating. It is hard to watch coworkers try to interact with people whose English speaking ability is limited. They become ugly Americans. Most of them think that talking louder will make people understand them & it doesn't. Little old babuskas shouldn't be yelled at. And unfunny jokes are made about how the Russians get in line at 7:30 for a 10 starting time. There are only so many times that I can explain that these people get in line because that was what one did in the USSR. Shortages were a way of life. They needed to get in line early if they were going to get anything. and to some people such things are funny. And people freak out when folks go through the produce line twice. It doesn't matter. If someone is willing to put up with my coworkers' detective acts, they obviously need the food. We have more than enough vegetables for everyone. [I am now trying to figure out how to get rid of a pallet of broccoli & boxes of artichokes & spinach.]

I am working to get an acquaintance to give my coworkers some sort of 'how to interact with immigrants' training. . . I need to get a job where I can stand my coworkers.