Zombies

ZOMBIES

Wesley Street is a hodgepodge of potholes and patches. As I navigate around the worst potholes, I keep a keen eye out for preoccupied pedestrians who scurry about the road like a lost army of ants. The parking lot is a sea of cars, acres and acres of cars. After what seems like endless trips up and down each aisle, I find a parking place. As I turned off the ignition, I take a deep breath and looked over at the imposing building. I checked my more time to make sure I have everything but I knew it was a delaying action. There was no avoiding it; the time had come to go in.

Michigan Works is located in the Commonwealth Commerce Center. The CCC, as the locals call it, was built in 1980 and it rises from the surrounding urban decay like a monument to better days of the past. After you have filed for unemployment, you are required to register and post a resume at Michigan Works. Computers, workshop, and training programs like “No Worker Left Behind” are provided for individuals and recruiting services are provided for employers. Most of the service I can access online, thus avoiding a visit. Unfortunately total dismissal is impossible.

Approaching the entrance, I worked my way through the maze of people, who, with nothing else to do, are just hanging out while they smoke cigarettes or make calls on their cell phones. A nondescript reception room that I had seen him many times before has not changed since my last visit. Bodies are coming and going in all directions like balls on a pool table after a break. Banners, brochures and displays with messages of false hope, dot the walls. Off to one side as a waiting area, where a dozen bodies filled the chairs. Some of the occupants sit as lifeless mannequins, while others loo...

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...fed up and decide to do something about it. You become proactive, start school, and rejoin the human race. In “The Pit” you are reminded how vast the unemployment problem is and now hopeless your plight seems. Some unknown force sucks the soul out of you. With every passing minute, the need to escape grows ever stronger. Not wanting to go down that path, I focus back to my research. With relief I finish my work. I pack up and as I leave, I silently wish me my fellow zombies better luck. Slowly a walk to my car, but in my mind I am at a full run. Secure in the safety of my car, the numbness starts to melt away and I could feel myself returning to normal. Once again, I make my way around of potholes of Wesley Street. As I look up at the image of Michigan Works and “The Pit” fading away in my mirror, dread cries out one last yelp. I turn right and rejoin the living.