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Today, I'm back to being myself after spending two and a half months as a numbers cruncher.

On Feb. 1, I joined the vast army of inexperienced bureaucrats that is called into existence every 10 years to count the number of people living in this land. Back in the fall, I had taken a test to determine whether I was up to the task. In late January, the local census office called. Did I still want to go to work for $11.75 an hour for 30 or 40 hours a week, with no benefits? And by the way, did I know how to use a computer?

Well, yes, I said. The money would be a pleasant supplement to my modest retirement income, and I figured I could squeeze in my writing during evenings and weekends. And yes, I could use a computer. I do all my writing and research on one, and distribute my columns over the Internet.

On my first day on the job, I learned that I was being trained to be an OOSQA. That's for "Office Operations Supervisor for Quality Assurance." My specific duties would involve Questionnaire Assistance Centers -- QACs. These were to be in churches, fire departments, libraries and other locales where locals might congregate. Their purpose was to count the hard-to-count people: people who speak languages other than English, people who did not receive mailed questionnaires and people who needed help interpreting and filling out their questionnaires.

It was my job to help train the people who manned the QACs. Once the program was under way, I had to keep track of the number of people they assisted and the number of census questionnaires they distributed, by language. And I had to supervise the couriers who kept the QACs supplied with the proper forms and collected their records of hours worked.

In addition, I had to learn to take fingerprints and to train others to take fingerprints. The Census Bureau required that all new employees be fingerprinted and that their fingerprints be cleared with the FBI to make sure the people we sent out to meet the public were harmless and trustworthy.

But my most daunting task was to learn to use Excel. Excel is a Microsoft program that allows you to track data through virtually endless spreadsheets. For me, it was like learning an entirely new language. I write this column using Microsoft Word, which presents you with a blank page and invites you to fill it with words. Excel presents you with a grid of rectangles and invites you to fill them with numbers.

Fortunately, I was working with people who knew Excel, and two in particular came to my rescue. One was Ed, a genius at computers who had worked in information technology for an international company before the economy tanked. He had an incredibly organized mind and was able to solve any glitches that came up in my end of the office, and he could move smoothly from one function to the other.

Another was Jim, a retired General Motors engineer, who could play Excel like Earl Scruggs could play a banjo. The Census Bureau called him a FOS -- a Field Operations Supervisor. It was his job to organize the 52 QACs, set up their schedules and supervise the people who manned them. As a field operations supervisor, his office was his pickup (a Chevy S-10) and he was forbidden to put his hands on a Census Bureau computer keyboard. So when he came to my rescue, he was required to stand behind me and instruct me in where to click, when to double click and when to right click. It was like trying to sit in the back seat and tell someone who had never driven a car how to drive a five-speed manual Chevy Avalanche through Atlanta's Spaghetti Junction. Needless to say, these two men were apple-pie-order freaks while I'm not comfortable unless my desk looks like a landfill. They were horrified.

To carry my normal writing load and to carry out my census duties, I was rising at 5 a.m., working at home for a couple of hours, then taking the 20-minute drive to the census office. My dreams were filled with images of Excel spreadsheets. I would wake at 3 a.m. and spend the next two hours trying to think my way through the mazes I would confront at work. Fortunately, I wasn't involved directly in counting heads; I was concerned only with the effectiveness of the QACs. And fortunately, I had the help of Ed and Jim and a number of other competent people.

I stayed with the bureau until the QACs were dismantled on April 20. On my last day, I left my spreadsheet ready to be passed on to the regional office in Charlotte. I was ready to go celebrate my freedom with Miss Peggy, thanks to the extra money the Census Bureau had poured into my bank account.

But I had to postpone the celebration. By the time my hitch was up, my stamina was down; I had a cold that deprived me of voice and energy. But my fingers are happy to be back to a familiar keyboard where the screen shows blank pages instead of a maze of squares and rectangles. And I was happy to move over in these economic hard times to make room for someone more qualified who needs the job more than I.

Write to Gene Owens at 315 Lakeforest Circle, Anderson SC 29625. E-mail: Swampscum2@aol.com