| Issue #36, December 1, 2006 |
My Job On The NF And My Fingerprint
Clocking In And Out Of Work Just Isn’t The Same As It Used To Be
By Phyllis Lombardi
Call me Oldfinger. Not because of a long-ago interest in James Bond, but because my fingers reveal my age in a way my face does not. I hope.
It’s this way. I’ve a part-time job in Mattituck. Had it for years. It’s everything I might want – almost. My co-workers are real friends. I’ve a window near my work area, and hot water for a cup of tea is just a few steps from my desk. And until recently I simply submitted my time sheet every two weeks and shortly thereafter I was on my way to the bank.
No more. The bi-weekly, old North Forky time sheet routine was discarded for a sophisticated electronic finger-recognition sign in/sign out. Thus began my frustration. As well as that Oldfinger designation.
My first meeting with what I’ll call the finger-machine was routine. Punch in the last four digits of my social security number, hit enter, place a fingertip (always the same one, of course) on the machine, and voila. I was at work. On time. The machine said so. It even acknowledged me. “Thank you, Phyllis” popped up on a small screen. How’s that for office etiquette?
End of day was the same procedure. “Thank you” and then home to make dinner. Unfortunately I’ve no dinner-machine in my kitchen. My husband’s there – but that’s another story.
Within days my relationship with the finger-machine went sour. I’d try over and over to get that “Thank you” to show. It rarely did. I knew I was the cause of considerable distress to the woman responsible for payroll. She was patient with me, verified I was following the correct procedure. Finally, the darned finger-machine just quit on me. It worked for the younger employees, but never for me. Then the payroll lady told me the facts of life. “Old fingers,” she said, “sometimes just don’t get a response.” How’d you like to hear that at the start of your work day?
Well, I’m back to a time sheet. Only now, instead of a bi-weekly form, I put a little yellow sticky on the payroll lady’s desk. Time in/time out. On a daily basis. So much for North Fork progress.
In the name of progress, however, and to prove I can get a little response from something at this late date in my life, I decided to do some 007 (that’s the aforementioned James Bond, you youngsters) investigation. I’d find out how a few other businesses on the North Fork verified the number of hours their employees worked.
If you talk to Irene Stewart who works at Arcade in Greenport, you’ll discover this beloved variety store is, like Kansas City, up-to-date. It’s been in business since before my birth -- way back in the last century. Wide-planked and uneven floor boards creak as customers search out a treasure from among thousands of different items. But Arcade employees must punch a time clock even on their lunch hour or coffee break. Irene, who for years had her own business, said she’s not used to a time clock and often forgets to use it. Hope Arcade owner Bob Paquette overlooks Irene’s time clock lapses. It’s hard to remember to remember.
Definitely not punchy are Riverhead Library employees. Carol Loschen, who lives in Laurel and is an enthusiastic library worker, says staff simply sign in and out. Been that way for years with no problem. So why change? Carol, that’s exactly what I said when local libraries abandoned the card catalogs and patrons had to search out a book on a computer. It took me a few years to catch up.
Even more casual than the library is Old Town Art and Crafts Guild in Cutchogue. The place has been around for 58 years, exhibiting and selling the work of North Fork artists and craftspersons. Cashiers and other staff members sign in at the beginning of their shift – but don’t sign out. Maybe they never go home?
At the Guild, a tiny notepad lists the dates and names of workers. Also listed is a daily comment on the day’s weather. Check out an old notepad and you’ll find it was cloudy and cold on November 30, 1970. Cleo Tabor of Orient has been signing in at the Guild for decades. Don’t even think the words “time clock” in front of her.
That’s it. Here on the North Fork we check in and out in various ways. I’m still doing the sticky thing but maybe not for long. Rumor has it that a DNA sample is the wave of the future. Arrive at work each morning, snip off an eighth-inch of hair and deposit in the hair-machine. If it matches the DNA of your first submitted sample, fine. Get to work. Another eighth-inch hair at the end of the day and home you go.
OK for some employees. But if you know me, you know my hair is short, really short. I don’t even carry a comb. I figure I’ve got about a week’s worth of snips before I come up jobless.
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