“Welcome to the Federal Job Information Center,” says the muffled, monotone male voice coming from the speaker mounted near George Bush’s head.
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He was getting desperate last week when the notice that his unemployment benefits were running out arrived. He’d heard more than once about the Federal Job Information Center at 175 W. Jackson. Its name made it sound pretty impressive, like a bustling board-of-trade pit with bureaucrats, a phone to each ear, shouting out the latest openings and packs of unemployed elbowing for position in front of television monitors listing myriad opportunities.
Tom got cleaned up and went downtown. “Fifth floor,” the guard in the lobby told him. “But there’s nobody up there. Some people come down mad, and some people come down happy.”
“Welcome to the Federal Job Information Center,” the voice says. “This is a self-service job-information center.”
The place empties out fast. Then in walks a tall man, probably in his 50s, wearing jogging pants. He looks like he might have been an executive. The voice recites a toll-free number for listings of federal jobs in “Illinoiz.”
