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At 3:40 a.m., Alfredo Aguilar arrived at Primary Staffing Inc., in Chicago’s Brighton Park neighborhood, hoping to be first in line for a day’s job.

But a few people were already ahead of him. Some are so desperate for employment that they are coming earlier and earlier, some by 2 a.m., just to get a crack at an $8.25-per-hour job that lasts only a day packing chocolate bars, filling shampoo bottles or lifting boxes.

The group waited quietly for the staffing agency to open sometime after 4 a.m., rubbing their faces to try to stave off the cold. Being first in line doesn’t guarantee a job, but it improves the chances of landing one. A few people greeted each other and shared cigarettes and words of hope, while newcomers kept to themselves.

When the staffing agency opened, they all walked inside, only to wait some more. If their names were not called by 7 a.m., their only options to find work would be to try another temp agency elsewhere in the city or line up again for a chance at an afternoon shift. Or they could return home.

Going home empty-handed for Aguilar is far worse than waiting in lines.

“(You feel) helpless because you want to work, but there aren’t any jobs,” he said.

The men and women who stand in lines at these temp agencies tend to be among the hardest hit by the recession. They are young, black or Hispanic, with lower levels of education. Many previously labored in low-wage industries, such as warehouses, factories and restaurants, and lost their jobs as the economy stalled and sputtered.

“When you have unemployment this high for this long, millions of families fall off the bottom, and their opportunities are just crushed,” said Heidi Shierholz, an economist with the Economic Policy Institute.

Aguilar is an example. Married and the father of two girls, ages 8 and 10, he worked at a factory for nearly 10 years before it closed in May. He said he earned up to $900 per week at the factory. Now he makes $300 if he’s lucky.

“What do I do? I have enough for food and clothing, but what about the rest?” said Aguilar, 37.

People in Aguilar’s situation also are facing increased competition as more laid-off workers have begun to turn to staffing agencies to earn money for food and transportation and, in some cases, to avoid homelessness.

In the Chicago area there are more than 400,000 unemployed workers. Nationally, the number stands at around 14.8 million. For about every five unemployed workers, there is one job opening. Those numbers do not account for the 9.2 million people working part-time in October because they couldn’t find full-time jobs or because their hours were cut.

While it is normal for employers to test the waters of the recovery by hiring temporary workers, “we might not shift to permanent workers as quickly,” Shierholz said.

“There is no incentive to make permanent jobs, with good job security and good benefits and good pay and good working conditions, (when) you have another 15 people waiting out the door that would take lower than that,” Shierholz said.

Still, Aguilar, whose family is supported mostly by his wife, clings to hope that one of these temporary jobs will lead to a permanent position.

“She tells me to stay home with the girls, but I can’t,” he said.

He has already given up too much, he said. He sold his 2002 Volkswagen Jetta and now drives the first car he ever owned, a 1990 Chevrolet Cavalier that he had planned to junk. He kept it in his garage for sentimental reasons, never thinking that one day he would come to again depend on it.

“As a man, I have to work,” he said.

About 4 a.m., Francisco Tovar, 25, arrived at the line with a medium Dunkin’ Donuts coffee in hand and a blue hoodie over his head. Tovar moved to Chicago a month ago from Long Beach, Calif., after being laid off from a factory job.

“I have enough for this month’s rent,” said Tovar, explaining that he splits the cost with his brother, 22, a server at a restaurant in Chicago Heights. And though he had stood in line for three days without landing a job, Tovar was upbeat. At least there are jobs in Chicago, he said.

The lines for temp jobs also include moms with children they have left at home, in bed.

“You could spend a week sitting here for nothing,” said a 37-year-old mother of two who was waiting inside Elite Staffing on 55

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Street, one of the agencies that offer industrial jobs.

While some waited for an opportunity, those whose names were called were told to get ready for work.

For Cristina Perez, a single mother of five, that meant putting on a blue T-shirt with the agency’s logo and waiting for a ride to a factory. She landed the job after waiting for three hours the day before and coming up empty-handed.

Perez, 36, said she has been looking for a second job since her hours at a restaurant were cut to five hours a week. Before turning to the staffing agencies, she tried finding work on her own but found that the few “help needed” signs she spotted were often taken down within minutes of being posted.

“This is my last resort,” said Perez.

Until Thursday morning things seemed bleak for Juanita Ventura. Her temporary job, packing bags of coffee into boxes, had ended. Then she returned to Ron’s Staffing Services and learned the same factory specifically asked for her to return.

“If they like the way you work, they’ll ask for you and call you back,” she said, adding that she’ll now be able to buy winter clothes for her children, Jose, 9, and Isidro, 14.

She left the agency and walked to the bus stop for a 20-minute ride home to grab an apple, milk and cereal. Ventura, 39, changed into an oversized grey T-shirt, buttoned her coat and woke up the boys.

“Good morning!” she said as she turned on the light. Jose, who had fallen asleep on the couch, stretched, turned around and moved his arms under the covers.

“I’m going to work; OK, my love?” she said. “Isidro, I’m leaving. Here are your clothes,” she called out to her other son who was fast asleep in his room.

Then she headed out the door to catch the CTA Orange Line to the factory on the far South Side. She wasn’t sure what work she would be doing, but hoped it would last more than a day.

mcancino@tribune.com