For those of you who do not know, before I ran 123notary, I had a history. No, not that kind of a history. Oh? That’s not what you were thinking? Well, then what were you thinking? Okay, in any case, I majored in Chinese in college as I had always had a strong urge to learn languages. In High School, I studied classical music a lot because my parents had many connections with music teachers, music schools, etc., and insisted upon it. When I got out of school, I found that there were no jobs that would involve Chinese unless I moved to China or Los Angeles, so I moved to Los Angeles from Boston which was quite a cultural adjustment.
Everyone and everything I knew from back home was no longer there. Even cultural things I took for granted like sarcasm didn’t exist over here. There were no more big Irish guys named Sully who whistled loudly when they wanted somebody’s attention (or said HEY really loudly.) I was surrounded by a California culture where people didn’t care about much of anything. And then there was a pervading gang culture near where I was living with Mexican gangs, gang guys, gang girls, bandanas, tattoos, low-riders, and Chinese kids who knew nothing except this type of environment. Sometimes the gangs would give people lectures right outside my window on the driveway. I remember hearing, “You gotta lot to learn esse! This barrio forgives nothing vato!” Okay, I’m mixing reality with Cheech and Chong, but you get the point.
I tried to get a job doing import export, but with few available jobs and no experience my search was a failure. Seattle and Shanghai had more jobs for people with my skill set, but I had family & friend (only 1 friend) here and was terrified of being alone in some other city. So, I started doing landscape maintenance, something I had done as a child. I realized I only knew how to do easy things and had little or no skill at doing harder landscaping tasks which got me in a little trouble. After that I started tutoring English again. That was something I had done while I was in Taiwan a few years earlier.
Tutoring was rough because people would cancel at the last minute, and the adults were not serious about learning. But, the children were good and proved to be reliable clients since their parents forced education on them (just like my parents forced music lessons on me which helped my life a lot.) After a while, my aunt pressured me to get a teaching credential and be a sub. I worked teaching kids and ESL adult school, and in all different parts of the county. I would drive to Fontana, South Los Angeles, East LA, El Monte, and more. And then it happened. What happened?
I was asked to teach a 10 week summer night school class in downtown Los Angeles. I couldn’t believe they assigned the class to me. Why me? I didn’t ask to teach it. I had very little experience at that district and in general with classroom teaching. I had done tutoring and small classes. Was it because it was a summer class? Were the other teachers on break? Was it because someone dropped out at the last minute? Speculation, speculation, and guess work. So, this class was every night for two and a half months. I got to the class the first day. There were about fifty people. I was overwhelmed. I had never taught a class that size. The room was huge too. It took three weeks to learn everybody’s name. Most of the people were from Mexico, but there were Salvadorians (or as I call them: Salvadortecos or Salvadorenos), Guatemalans (Guatemaltecos), two Koreans (Koreanos is how Mexicans say it), a South Indian, a Russian, and a few others. But, when you teach ESL in Los Angeles, it is generally 90% Latino.
I had learned a little Spanish and was going to learn more at work. Grammar was an issue, and my vocabulary was tiny. I speak Chinese well, but Spanish has always been a challenge even though it’s seven times easier to learn Spanish as an English speaker than it is to learn Chinese. So little by little I learned more Spanish words from my students which I needed for teaching. Because, when you teach a particular verb tense or topic, you need to make sure the slower students are on the same page with you so you don’t lose them.
So, I got to know the class better and better, and got more comfortable teaching them. The subject matter was my favorite: Beginner ESL (English as a second language). As time went on I noticed that there were more and more people in the class. I was disturbed. I didn’t know how these people would fit, and where they would sit. But, I got used to that. Then, I noticed that the population in my class kept growing like a cancer, little by little. I guess word got around that I was a good teacher, or perhaps there were no other options because there is a teacher shortage during the summer. By the end of the class I counted 120 people in my class. They loved me, I had most of their names down, and half the class valued me so much that they were willing to stand for two hours. I have never had an experience like this in my life and I think I should look back with price and gratitude. Because my other gigs of which there were over 100 (which were generally subbing less than a handful of times) were very disappointing and the classes did not love me.
Looking back, I would say that having your own class with a flexible student base is the best. That way new people who love me can join the class and I can accumulate a following of people who like my style.
Close to the end of the class, my birthday came. The students collected money for a huge cake. I was concerned that they were going to spend too much because (1) I like to keep it simple and (2) these were very poor people. After class was over on that day, they unveiled the cake. We had drinks, cake, music, and good conversation. It was somewhat hard to socialize with people who hardly speak English, but we managed. And then it was picture time. Two of the students put cake frosting all over my face and then took a photo of me. The posted a copy of it on the classroom wall so that we would have a happy memory. The principal came in a few days later and congratulated me on having a great class. But, I didn’t do anything special. I was just doing what I always do — I had just stumbled upon really really good luck!
So, that concludes my little spiel about my test beaching experience which incidentally was one of the best experiences of my life. I hope that I have some more amazing life experiences in the future.
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The signing from hell
The Signing from hell….
I have been a notary signing agent for many years now and for the most part I have enjoyed it tremendously. I love the freedom and independence that it affords me and I enjoy meeting wonderful new people from all walks of life. As with most jobs there are good and bad days. This is the tale of one of those bad days. Probably the worst day as a signing agent ever-for me that is.
The story begins
Get ready for a hell of a story. Here we go. I got a call late on a Friday afternoon from one of my title company schedulers (Fidelity National Title) for a job on the following day, a Saturday. I gladly accepted. I received the confirmation and then proceeded to call the borrower to verify time and place. Saturday came and I made my way over to the borrower’s home. When I drove up to the borrowers home the first thing I noticed was the house was VERY run down, and I couldn’t help wondering to myself if the bank knew what they were doing in granting a loan for this property but who am I to judge.
Going up the stairs…
So I parked and then proceeded up the stairs to the house and could see and feel that the whole house was crooked, like on slant. It was obvious It had once been a single family house that somebody who obviously didn’t have a contractors license had chopped it up and made some what I call make shift apartments out of it. And you could actually see the termites crawling on various pieces of exposed wood. But again it is not my place to judge. So I went to what looked like the only real front door (as there were several) and knocked. I heard what I thought was an animal with paws approaching the door.
The Signer and his long clicking toe nails!
But to my surprise it was a young man. But not just an ordinary man but a man with the longest toe nails I have every seen (that is what I heard coming to the door the clicking of his toe nails hitting the floor as he walked). He was also the filthiest person that I have seen as well who living in a house and not on the streets. He was wearing dirty boxers and a dirty torn tee shirt. Then to top it off there was a smell that I cannot to this day describe. While I stood motionless in disbelief and shock, I heard a sweet woman’s voice saying ‘is that her, is that the lady…tell her to come on up…please come on up’…and I cannot tell you why but I went into the door way and accened up a dark stairway and I heard what I assumed was the young man that opened the door who now was behind me start turning about 4-5 locks one by one and as they clicked and locked behind me and I became terrified..truthfully I thought I was going to see my maker that day but I kept on climbing the stairs and the further I ascended up the stairs the stench got worse.
The air was so thick… I could have cut it with a knife…
I could hardly breath. There was absolutely no ventilation. The air was so thick I could have cut it with a knife. And I thought to myself I must have lost my mind. To this day I still cant explain why I didnt just turn around when the front door first opened and just leave. When I reached the the top of the stairs it was very dark and as my eyes started to adjust there was more horror. Dishes and trash pilled everywhere and there were two extremely dirty mattresses one on the floor which the young man who had let me in proceeded to ly down on and cover himself up with a dirty blanket and the other which was sitting up on a mattress frame was the lady who I presumed had called out to m. She was sitting on the edge of the mattress with two swollen legs that resembled tree trunks with clearly to me looked like flesh eating disease. There was an abundance of open sores and I’ll just leave it at that. She then says to me that they had just painted the floor and I was to sit in that area…I said excuse me….and she then pointed to a 10 foot corner that had a coach that clearly had been freshly painted…I thought to myself I must be in the twlight zone or on one of those candid camera tv shows….
The signing begins..
I sat down and asked for the documents (they had been overnighted to the borrower; it was one of those WAMU deals, and I guess it it obvious now why they went out of business…lol) and the signers ID. She looked puzzled but asked the young man to get up and look for the requested items….he reluctantly got up and looked for a few minutes but to me it didnt seem that he was really looking or knew what he was looking for. He was wandering around aimlessly and then told the lady that he could not find them. She accepted this and all I’ll say is that I was so grateful that the ID and and loan docs couldn’t be found…I immediately got up let them know I had to go for I had another appointment and if the missing items came up please call so we could re-schedule another appointment (yes, I lied) and then with the young man in front leading me out I proceedded to the stairway and headed down the steps.
No ID? No problem, let’s reschedule.. time to go!!!!
Thankfully he had the unlocked those locks and he was opening the door when I reached the foot of the steps. I thanked him and bolted through the door gasping for air as I went. I really didnt realize how much I was shaken up until I reached my car. I fumbled for the key, opened the drivers door, sat behind the drivers seat and began trembling. I could still smell that dreadful smell. Dear god, I had brought it with me. Before I could compose myself, in a state is horror, I once again heard those clicks of those toe nails and looked up to see the young man at my passenger side car door excitingly letting me know that he had found the loan doc’sI could hear him saying “Oh Miss, Oh miss I got what you need” and me being the quick thinker I am, I asked him had he found the ID as well. He looking disappointed said oh no…and walked back to his house. All I could do was just sit there and try to regain my composure. Soon after however I felt sick to my stomach and I opened the door leaned my head down towards the street concrete and everything that had been in my stomach come up….After about 15 minutes I started the car up and went home. I opened my front door and stripped down and left it all outside. Clothes, briefcase and all. I took a long hot shower and washed the clothes I had been wearing. After this I immediately sat down and sent Fidelity a very long recap of all of these events and told them NOT to send a request that I go back…ever. When Monday came I got a an apology via email from Fidelity and that was the end of it. I never heard one thing about it ever again. Shortly after however, I did receive my full fee of 150.00. Of this I was thankful.
I was polite through the whole ordeal!
In closing, there is one thing I want to add. Although I was very uncomfortable with the whole situation. The borrower and who I presumed was her son, never new for one minute that I had issues with any of what I described here. I was cheerful, kind and professional throughout all of it.
Until next time…