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Each client has his or her own tipping point. For one woman, it was the ignominy of a job application process conducted entirely online, with no human to make an impression on, no one to write a thank-you note to after an interview. For one man, it was the moment he finally scored an interview, then realized that his gas tank was empty and he had no money to fill it.
Most of the counselors now keep a box of tissues on their desks and dispense tips on stress-relief exercise techniques -- often the only solace they can offer.
"We're therapists now," said Marsene Scott-Brown, an employment specialist who has worked at the center for 10 years. "It's a grieving process. It really is."
Somehow, the center remains a place of hope, even inspiration.
Downstairs from Weitzel's class, Alejandra Huerta, 25, a tireless job counselor, settled in for another day. She found her first client in the lobby.
Merlita Felipe, 41, a mother of three, works two jobs, one at the port and the other at a hotel where she is a "runner," bringing toothpaste and the like up to the rooms. She can't make ends meet; she's trying to find another job with higher wages. She's had a few interviews, she told Huerta.
"But nothing," she said quietly.
Aura Cruz, 27, hoped her temporary secretarial position at a hospital would become permanent. The job was eliminated. She has applied for waitress positions but restaurants keep telling her she's overqualified.
"I just need a job," she protested.
Marius Spada, 45, is a union bridge painter who has hung in a harness from the highest points of the Golden Gate Bridge. Work, which once earned him $68 an hour, has dried up. Huerta asked him: "So you are open to . . . ?"
"Anything," he said with a taut smile. "Anywhere."
The parade continued throughout the morning. Huerta offered each what she could -- a tip for a resume, a referral to a free skills class, a reminder that looking for a job is, in itself, a full-time job.
Then, seven hours after she began her day, a data-entry company sent word that it would be calling Aura Cruz for an interview.
Huerta had heard that the company was opening up eight positions, and she'd found a way to get Cruz's resume into the right hands.
When she heard the news, Huerta straightened her shoulders and exhaled deeply. "There you go," she said with a grin. She left to retrieve another client from the lobby, this time with a little more bounce in her step.
scott.gold@latimes.com
Most of the counselors now keep a box of tissues on their desks and dispense tips on stress-relief exercise techniques -- often the only solace they can offer.
"We're therapists now," said Marsene Scott-Brown, an employment specialist who has worked at the center for 10 years. "It's a grieving process. It really is."
Somehow, the center remains a place of hope, even inspiration.
Downstairs from Weitzel's class, Alejandra Huerta, 25, a tireless job counselor, settled in for another day. She found her first client in the lobby.
Merlita Felipe, 41, a mother of three, works two jobs, one at the port and the other at a hotel where she is a "runner," bringing toothpaste and the like up to the rooms. She can't make ends meet; she's trying to find another job with higher wages. She's had a few interviews, she told Huerta.
"But nothing," she said quietly.
Aura Cruz, 27, hoped her temporary secretarial position at a hospital would become permanent. The job was eliminated. She has applied for waitress positions but restaurants keep telling her she's overqualified.
"I just need a job," she protested.
Marius Spada, 45, is a union bridge painter who has hung in a harness from the highest points of the Golden Gate Bridge. Work, which once earned him $68 an hour, has dried up. Huerta asked him: "So you are open to . . . ?"
"Anything," he said with a taut smile. "Anywhere."
The parade continued throughout the morning. Huerta offered each what she could -- a tip for a resume, a referral to a free skills class, a reminder that looking for a job is, in itself, a full-time job.
Then, seven hours after she began her day, a data-entry company sent word that it would be calling Aura Cruz for an interview.
Huerta had heard that the company was opening up eight positions, and she'd found a way to get Cruz's resume into the right hands.
When she heard the news, Huerta straightened her shoulders and exhaled deeply. "There you go," she said with a grin. She left to retrieve another client from the lobby, this time with a little more bounce in her step.
scott.gold@latimes.com
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