ARE YOU HIRING??

After more than 300 days in school, I’m beside a beautiful beach again. The beach I left last summer, the one that I said I’d never return to after hardworking days in a clothing warehouse where the manager warned every day to fire me, where almost all of my friends who came made some money to pay their tuition, to buy cars, to go to Nepal to visit family and friends. I’m beside the same beach once again. I sit in the wet sand with footprints and get lost in the reverie about the one I care for, looking at the line where the sea touches the sky and listen to the sound of the waves, the chirping of the birds and the squealing sound of the cars running in the Coastal Highway. I see kids shoveling the sand, making a sand castle and smile-what if I was a kid once again. I wish this summer for me was like for those old couple who gently kissed each other and made themselves comfortable in their “Sunsations” beach chairs.

As I smoke, the gentle breeze touches my skin but I am distracted by the Harley’s rough sound on the streets. Suddenly, the clouds cover the bright sunny sky and I realize I have no job. Before coming to this place, when all my friends were drunk to death one night, I should have recorded their excitement on an MP3 player to see how they felt about this “city of dreams” and how it is going to appear at the end of the summer. This city doesn’t treat all visitors the same way. Under the scorching sun, every day I wake up every morning at 9 (sorry, I can’t make it earlier than that) and ready myself to embark in a journey that could possibly yield me some money. I go to the nearest bus stop on the Ocean side and wait for the bus to come. I think of the good times at school. At least I had some job at school to sustain myself. Homeworks and papers were annoying. However, finishing paper and homework was better than asking everyday in dozens of business and stores, “Are you hiring?” I try my best to show how friendly I am. With broken English, I try to show my confidence in answering their questions and then filling up the application forms. The beautiful Russian girls at the desks take my application and put it under a huge pile. I’m certain that at least two-thirds of those applicants are Nepalis.

I aboard the bus and drop my ticket in the ticket box beside the driver and look around for a seat. There is never a bus ride without at least one-third of the Nepali riders, broken yet hopeful for a job. They come from around the US, most of them from Minnesota, Louisiana and Texas. Only a handful of them have legal permits to work here. However, their aspirations and hope need no restrictions to work anywhere in this place. Every store, every business, every restaurant and every hotel has at least a Nepali employee. I go to McDonald’s to eat McChicken, the cheapest, unhealthiest eatable thing in town, Burger King and Pizza Hut. All I see are Nepali faces. They would pretend they didn’t see me or I’d do that. After all, there is a sense of competition for job. I have heard my friends often cursing other Nepalis. But everybody knows we all are in the same boat.

The other day after I couldn’t get a job at the place I worked last year , I met my good friend “Chris,” who angered at me for coming two weeks late. “All freaking Nepalis have taken the city dude,” he said. All I could do was smile and look down. Last year, I remember during this time of the summer, the city was blooming with jobs, with summer vacationers. This year, the so called economic recession has put a question mark on the vacations. High school graduates find a job rather than spending a summer in the coasts. Americans don’t spend at restaurants and stores like they did before the recession. The ones being affected are the businesses that invest. Who are to be blamed? Bush, Al Qaeda’s 9/11 attack, bank credit defaulters, economists, Obama’s overly hyped plan, Chinese Premier’s economic strategy, War in Afghanistan, number of foreign students coming to the US every year, illegal immigrants, conflicts around the world, Nepali students affected by the ravaged home, who?? I can’t blame other Nepalis who are looking for jobs in town. They have high dreams and aspirations as I do. They have come here with the same hope as I do. Almost 9,000 Nepali students enter US every year, who’s to be blamed?

For now, as the sun sets, all my friends return to the apartment with gloomy faces. Only a few of them got their jobs fixed today. No matter how they ace in academics, no matter if they go to top tier university or a community college, all of their jobs include working in the kitchen, serving, dish washing, housekeeping, janitorial work, auditing work at the hotels, yada yada yada. I still hope soon my bank account would fill up with dollars; my friends and all Nepalis here in the city have some money in their pockets. I hope bright sun welcome them every day, American vacationers decide to come to this city, the city is packed like sardines with people and party goers. Only I know how it feels when the drunk and high school seniors scream in the bus at nights when you come worn out off work. Now, I wish for those days again. I wish someone beside the desk smiles at me and says, “yes we’re hiring. Can you come tomorrow?”

Sometimes I feel like my life is a cigarette, burning every moment no matter if someone smokes or not.

The author is a college student working in one of the happening cities in the East Coast.