The Temp Files

FIX DINING ROOM CHAIR

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 15:50:00 -0700

This morning I donned purple latex gloves and dug through a trash bag of someone’s belongings. The bag held a heavy cotton work jacket, a leather jacket (faux, real? I didn’t check the label), one sandal (mens, just one), nail clippers, a crocheted beanie with a small brim, and one medium, square pillow. After staring in horror at the leather jacket for a moment, I realized it had dried, crushed chocolate matted on the left shoulder. There was no other chocolate in the trash bag.

I usually just make copies, file those copies, and shred stuff. Not today!

That’s not true, I shredded stuff after I decided what was suitable for Goodwill and what was dumpster ready. A former employee had left behind personal goods and never returned to claim anything. After I was told to put the gloves on I thought, “I sure wasn’t expecting to do this today.” Then I realized I have done some strange things as a temp.

Taken dictation. Is that even worded properly? I spent three days as a real estate broker’s assistant. In the morning I would sit at a desk in his office and he would begin dictating an email or a report of some kind. I jotted everything down on a legal pad. Then I’d type it up, let him proof it and send it off. After every task I did for him (copies, dictation, phone messages, etc) he would grin and say, “good girl!” NO JOKE. He was genuinely kind but come on, I’m not a golden retriever.

One afternoon at this place, the boss (not Bob) asked me to help with an Excel project. He handed me several sheets of legal paper with large, flow-y print. He gave me some dates and requested I put at least one item per date or every other date. I started making the spreadsheet and realized his wife wrote down chores IN VERY LARGE PRINT, ON VERY LARGE PAPER. I’m not sure why he needed “fix dining room chair” on a spreadsheet when it was already shouting at him on paper. I handed him the finished project and he said, “our little secret.” I didn’t get it, either.

Basically the entire last post. Never expected to clean out someone’s desk. Strange.

Can’t say I’m bored! …No, I can. You can only shred so much paper before wishing you were shredding yourself into unrecognizable bits, too.

rebound receptionist

Mon, 20 May 2013 16:30:00 -0700

It had to happen eventually.

I had a “worst temp job” experience. Not just temp- worst job I’ve had, ever.

The actual job was normal. Fine, even. Receptionist/admin for an accounting team. Answer phones, update people’s Outlook calendars, make coffee, check the mail, handle Fed Ex… oops, don’t click away, I’ll get to the story!

I was filling in for a couple of weeks because the regular receptionist was out sick. It was a small office, about 12 people, everyone had been there for a minimum of 10+ years. Tight knit but friendly group. How is the worst job? Well.

The woman I filled in for was more than sick, turns out. She was diagnosed with cancer. Scary, but she planned to get treatment and other staff started arranging to send flowers and cards. I kept answering phones. A week later, everyone is humming along as usual, thinking good thoughts for the receptionist.

I came in the following Monday, booted up the email to see what meetings I needed to update and so on. I also came down with a chest cold that weekend. My voice was deep and scratchy and I had a disgusting cough. It sounded like I was puking gravy; I should have stayed home at least one or two days that week, but I was filling in for a sick person already!

I was going through the email when I read that the receptionist passed away over the weekend. I looked around the desk I was sitting at. Her desk for 18 years. Sticky notes with her handwriting posted around- phone numbers and extensions she needed to remember. Her altoids and tissues in the top drawer. Her neglected plant on the desk’s edge. I felt dizzy from actually being ill and because I felt like sitting there was some kind of intrusion on her personal space. She planned to return to work.

The office manager came in and asked if I could help clean out the desk. I got a box and started putting those altoids and tissues in it. A crossword book, an address book, a discman. I found a book titled something like “How to Live When a Loved One Dies.” I learned her son suddenly died a couple of years before. The rest of the week the office was very quiet (minus my deep, echoing cough). An accountant started watering the neglected plant. She fiddled with it, picking at its leaves and I would either watch her mess with it and tell her she was making the plant look very nice, or I’d stare at my computer screen.

I stayed there for a couple more weeks while the office decided what to do with the position. I started changing contact information for things like UPS and the coffee delivery. One afternoon, the week the receptionist died, the regular UPS woman came in with some mail and asked for an update on her health. I slowly explained, stuttering a little because I wasn’t expecting to have tell anybody, “actually, I’m sorry, she passed away over the weekend.” I thought the UPS woman was going to faint. She just backed out slowly, sadly. The Fed Ex guy asked a couple of days later and said, “Huh. Wow. We liked to talk about golf.” He was more confused. It did get easier to break the news to various people (I stopped stuttering) - the security guard downstairs, water delivery guy, but it still felt strange, like it wasn’t my business to tell.

We ran out of legal paper once. I guess the receptionist was always a few steps ahead and I didn’t realize that was on my to-do list. I didn’t get reprimanded or anything, people were mostly realizing how much their receptionist actually did for them. I hated to be sitting at her desk when everyone trickled in each morning. I’d say “good morning!” but I’m sure it wasn’t the same, no matter how chipper I was (again, when I wasn’t trying to keep my phlegm down).

Another day, the office manager, while mostly keeping her composure, got pretty upset with the postage machine and its certified mail option. “I’ve had 18 years to learn how to do this, why did I never learn?” Fortunately, I do know how to get those damn machines to do certified mail, so I showed her and made a how-to to post above the machine. The next day I heard a commotion in the kitchen/break area. I walked around the corner and found the office manager had opened every drawer and cupboard, emptying all the contents. I helped her dust and throw out stale sugar packets and the like. She ate some of the receptionist’s old cereal because she didn’t want to toss it.

I was so glad when the office decided to hire a part time receptionist. It was too sad to work there (also, they made it only part time). They needed a brand new face, someone who hadn’t witnessed UPS woman breakdowns or coworkers eating old cereal. Someone who didn’t have to take down old post-its.

I felt like I knew her even though I didn’t meet her. She was in her early sixties. You learn a few things from people’s post-its. Reminders, to-do’s, phone numbers you need to recite often, even if you memorize them after a while- it’s good to have them handy.

Amusingly Horrible Things Bosses Have Said: The Bracket Earlier today I was clicking around the...

Sat, 16 Mar 2013 18:04:00 -0700

Amusingly Horrible Things Bosses Have Said: The Bracket

Earlier today I was clicking around the Hairpin and as usual, I clicked myself into a wormhole of old posts. Amusingly Horrible Things is my favorite continuing story. How I missed the boss one, I don’t know, but it’s worth a look.

I was reading along, all the while thinking I was glad to never have a boss get out line (have a dry humor I don’t understand, get sexually harrass-y, be a down-right dummy, etc. I’ve been fortunate in the professional and friendly boss department).

Then I got to number 16. OH YEAH, I did have a dickish “boss” once.

I don’t think she was exactly my boss, but she was one of the editors where I interned. I mostly talked with her about my stories. On three separate occasions she had snide remarks for me. I didn’t have that much confidence a few summers ago, so I felt bad about myself (after her listening to her) and thought she was probably right. Now I’ve professionally matured and understand she was just the office whiner/sadsack/jackass. While her comments were offensive, now they’re more of fun story to tell.

1) “I don’t know why anyone would need a journalism degree.” (Guess my degree!) Said at a happy hour for a coworkers birthday. I fake-laughed and had a sip of beer. We were talking about our college experiences- lady knew I had just earned my BA in journalism.

2) “You’re lucky to be getting paid. Internships weren’t always paid.” I made $12 an hour, I was grateful! I remember our conversation had something to do with saving money and bills. I’m pretty sure I apologized to her. Now I feel more like, fuck yes, they paid me!

3) “You can’t expect to start somewhere big.” We were sharing hopes, dreams and aspirations, OKAY (I can’t find the movie clip from Never Been Kissed because that’s where that excellent hopes, dreams and aspirations comes from).

Aw, memories <3

Photo

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 23:03:48 -0700

Bubble Letters and Label Makers

Thu, 10 Jan 2013 17:21:42 -0700

Who is below a temp on the office totem pole? A KID! YAY!

Right before New Year’s, a coworker brought her nine year-old daughter to work for the day. We became fast buddies (and not because she’s below me on the office totem pole). It’s easy to bond when topics are about Christmas gifts, hair, best friends, and label makers. She brought in a scrapbook-DIY- type of thing she got for Christmas and we almost immediately started on a project after our introduction.

“Hey, can you draw bubble letters?” She asked.

“Yeah, check this out.” I busted out a quick sample on a post-it.

“Cool. You can draw on this page if you want.” She said. She proceeded to show me her scrapbook, which she had made into chapters like “family”, “friends” and “things I like”. I was impressed she so quickly offered to let me draw on one of the blank pages. When I was nine there was no way I’d share that shit. I suppose there was one stipulation though. My art had to match the chapter (things I like). Then, it had to be something she liked (flowers) and I had to use my bubble letter skills. Fair enough, though! I was getting paid to color.

Now that I see this plastered on the computer screen, I realize my bubble letters are barely average. In my defense, I’ve been out of middle school since 1999.

Soon after, I let her use the label maker to help me create files for 2013 stuff. Since that’s already an easy job, with two of us updating files and labels, we were done by like, 10 am. Later, she used the label maker to have another coworker and myself write notes to each other. She’d have me ask a question, I typed it out and she took it to the other dude. They did the same thing and she brought a label-question back to me. I couldn’t think of a question during one of her trips back to my cubicle, but I noticed the other dude spelled “faverite” so my question to her was, “Why can’t he spell ‘favorite’ “

Her response? “I typed that.”

I can be such a bitch.

I thought we were typing out our own shit! Oh well. She took no offense, her mom even told me later, “I don’t raise my kids to be sensitive” (ha- note to self for the future). BUT STILL. I told her it was okay she spelled it incorrectly because we can’t all know how to spell everything. Then we learned how to spell it correctly and went on with our game/kind of working. At the end of the day, I was presented with a secret project she was working on!

I’m at the beach and that she pretty much nailed my look.

WHEN GIRLS GET BACK TO THE OFFICE

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 19:07:22 -0700

whatshouldwecallgirls:

via skittishandscared

Merry Christmas!

Mon, 24 Dec 2012 15:46:00 -0700

I told you at work I sit in a corner cubicle that’s hidden? And that I overhear a lot of fun things ( “I think all lesbians know each other” - most recent). When co-workers remember I’m there either because I’ve chimed in or sneeze, they ask “why are you so quiet! I always forget about you!”

Um. I don’t know, I’m just working and not wondering if all lesbians know each other (because I know the answer. They don’t, outside a certain radius, I’m told). Anyway, on Friday I was kindly re-gifted a bottle of chardonnay (the office was given a lot of gift baskets, etc.) Not even being sarcastic - they remembered I was sitting back there and I love chardonnay. I brought in cookies, too. Everybody wins at Christmastime.

Speaking of Christmas, remember that traffic playlist I made a while back? This month on my way into work I played Christmas music (because I’m real-life shit girls say girl). I prefer upbeat tunes and I can only listen to Wham! once. It gets old, fast. Here are some dance-y, feel good jams:

It’s Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - Darlene Love

The Christmas Can Can - Straight No Chaser

The 12 Days of Christmas - Straight No Chaser (Toto in Christmas song? Yes, please!)

All I Want For Christmas Is You - Mariah Carey

Rocking Around The Christmas Tree - Brenda Lee

Sleigh Ride - The Ronettes

Christmas Wrapping - The Waitresses

Jingle Bell Rock - Bobby Helms

Obviously it’s Christmas Eve so there isn’t much rush hour, but the next 48 hours are a good time to keep these songs on a loop, yeah? Any other favorites?

COMPLACENCE

Thu, 13 Dec 2012 14:42:10 -0700

Lately these posts seem to begin with, “man, I need to update more.” I have plenty of self-deprecating stories ready to go, but I’ve been busy with things that are not the internet.

This is a blessing and curse.

A blessing because I’m doing interesting (to me, anyway) activities like Bikram yoga and watching Bones of Netflix (season 7 finally came out!) A curse because not hanging out online means I’m not updating or job searching. The latter is probably more pertinent but, updating is more fun (it can’t reject me!)

I’m still at the same temp job since last we talked, the real estate place. It’s okay. Since the work is steady I’ll go ahead and blame that for my complacence when it comes to maintaining temp status. While I’m talking about not surfing the ‘ol careerbuilder.com, I might as well do it so… I’ll update sooner than three months from now, promise!

"My boobs are loving this unemployed thing. They don’t have to go to boob jail any day."

Wed, 26 Sep 2012 18:08:21 -0700

“My boobs are loving this unemployed thing. They don’t have to go to boob jail any day.”

- Jess, New Girl

Applies to temps, too, because “temp” is fancy-talk for pretty much “unemployed”

P.S. No boob jail going on over here right now. We’re free!

You have to be 40 to drive a Mercedes

Wed, 12 Sep 2012 15:01:00 -0700

I am slacking on the updates. I’m sorry readers. Dalina and Cindy and Veronica.

I haven’t even been that busy. Just tempin’! Lately, I’ve been working at a commercial real estate place, tucked in a corner cubicle and minding my own business.

This is excellent because I get to over-hear all kinds of shit. Mostly funny, sometimes irritating (“I hope my wife learns to cook before we have kids.”)

It’s a small office, building engineers are in and out all day and the two exec-type guys sit in their offices. One other woman works at the front desk. These executive guys are young. The one who brought me on, we’ll call him Tom, could pass for a college junior.

Some recent favorites I’ve heard while hidden in my cubicle:

“You have to be like, 40, to drive a Mercedes.”

“You fuckin’ fuck face.”

“Hey, we need to think of a nickname for the new guy.” (Not me, another new guy)

Even when I’m minding my business, filing something or clicking away on the computer, I listen to many dude-ly conversations- it’s a small place. At least I’m not listening to racist Bob anymore!

I’ll stop jazzing this job up now and get down to it. My first week or so was fine but lately, being there makes me feel terrible. Emotionally terrible. There isn’t asbestos or anything. And saying terrible is jazzing things up too much in the wrong direction. I just get a little blue.

FOR EXAMPLE.

That college junior-looking boss, Tom, you recall? Well, he was chatting about his weekend the other day and one thing lead to another and I ended up Facebook stalking him and his wife. Don’t mind what lead to this but it happened (I need to delete that f-ing account, I do nothing productive there anymore. Posting inside jokes and “bumper stickers” on friends’ walls was good and productive like five years ago. It’s not summer ‘07 anymore.) His wife is a year younger than I am and he is my age. He’s my boss and I’m a temp.

OKAY FINE WAIT HOLD IT

I’m being silly. This is silly. It’s like last spring when my receptionist buddy said this. Harmless!

That sentence made me realize I’ve been a temp since last spring. End of winter really. Fortunately I live in Arizona and it will be summer until the next end of winter, so I have that going for me.

Lookin’ like this today.

Thu, 19 Jul 2012 11:52:01 -0700

Lookin’ like this today.

my favorite people who end up being terrible

Wed, 18 Jul 2012 14:34:00 -0700

The business I’m temping at right now deals largely with farming- and there are some characters here. At the mortgage place, there was my favorite Napolean- like manager, who I thought would remain the greatest figure in the cast of people I’ve met the last few months. But the day I laid eyes on Bob MaxwellHouse, I knew I’d met a winner.

He’s on the smaller side and his tanned, leather skin shows he spends time out at farms. Always dressed in jeans with the same leather belt and flannel-styled shirt, topped off with a big cowboy hat, Bob, as Veronica says, is a straight shooter. Bob schooled me on the stock market and told me I need to get into penny stocks. Apparently they cost $5. I don’t get it either. He loves fun-sized krackle bars in the candy dish on my desk and takes no less than three when he walks by. He likes to fly his plane. His favorite phrase is, “Are we having fun yet!” I don’t think he even knows what Party Down is.

One day, he took them time to tell me he doesn’t like to do business with “towel heads” but does anyway. He proceeded to show me a cross on his belt because “they” don’t believe in the cross.

Oh dear, Bob. When he said that, I took all the fun-sized krackle bars out of the candy dish and put them in a drawer. You can’t be a bigot and still get treats, not at my front desk. Bob is still on my list of memorable characters, but clearly not for fun reasons. He’s with the other bigot, the IT guy who told me I’m exotic (wtf? it’s just good posture) and the lady who gave me unsolicited hairstyling advice (scrunch with mousse- never thought of that before). Looks like the Napolean manager made his way back to number one!

Napolean would get off the elevator, head down and eyes focused on his phone. He almost ran into the door every morning. He would grumble right by my desk with nary a hello. Sometimes I liked to say, “Heeeey Stu.” He would glance up like he had no idea how he’d made it into the office. Oh, Stu! You tiny and robust grump. I miss you.

hellogiggles: Tweet Of The Day: ILLUSTRATED TWEET OF THE DAY...

Wed, 20 Jun 2012 16:34:24 -0700

hellogiggles:

Tweet Of The Day: ILLUSTRATED TWEET OF THE DAY

by Maritza Lugo

Thank you to the receptionist!

Wed, 06 Jun 2012 15:22:00 -0700

Last Friday I answered the phone with my bubbly, This is blah blah… spiel. I did not get a hello in return, but a curt, “Jennifer, please.”

“Who is calling?” I asked, in my bubbly work voice. It’s about an ocatve higher and more drawn out than my usual tone. It’s much more friendly. The man on the other end, clearly frustrated, answered through his teeth, “Dick Lawyerman, attorney from Big Truck Shipping.”

I’m no stranger to recieving rude or upset phone calls. I didn’t know what ‘ol Dick’s beef was, I’m just the middlelady, so I put him through and thought nothing more of grumpy Dick.

Monday morning the phone rings and lo and behold, my dear friend Dick Lawyerman is calling back! “Jennifer, please.” He said, as though I never gave him the information he needed, ever. With the weekend sadwiched between his last phone call, I was hesistant to send him through without double checking about his name and company. You would have thought I’d just ordered him to pull out his teeth and hand some over when I asked, “and may I ask who is calling?”

“This. Is. Dick Lawyerman. L-a-w-y-e-r-m-a-n. Attorney for Big Truck Shipping.”

Damn, Dick! I’m just doing my job!

I decided I didn’t need to put up with Dick’s shenanigans. He might have beef with Jennifer, but what did I ever do!

“Dick, from Big Truck Shipping, you got it,” I said.

“attorney for Big Truck Shipping,” he corrected.

“Sure.” I said, unconvincingly because getting his title wrong clearly irked him. “Thanks so much, Dick.” and I sent him over. I thought “You’re welcome” would be a little too rude, I was just testing the waters to see what I could say without him complaining about me.

and that was that, until he called back later that morning. Ugh, Dick! This time around, I was aware Dick was at it again so when he said, in the voice of a tiny, wart-nosed villain, “Jennifer, Please.” I replied, “Sure, Dick!” in a sweet and loving voice, and wouldn’t you know it, Dick found it in himself to respond, “Thank you.” I put him through to Jennifer.

I knew I could pull some decent manners out of Dick.

Traffic Jammin’

Wed, 30 May 2012 21:30:10 -0700

Traffic Jammin’

They give you one task...

Wed, 30 May 2012 20:58:00 -0700

It was a normal and quiet morning. I was mentally wrestling with an excel project; I never click the right thing and my spreadsheets are always a tangled mess. It was almost lunch time and I went to go check the mail before I left. When I came back from the mailbox, I noticed an email asking me to find some last minute flights for the boss. No problem. I clicked through Expedia and found some. Two bosses returned (only one was flying) and they had me book a flight, hotel and rental car for that evening- to a town that’s about a 3 or 4 hour drive away (depends on your driving style, I guess). Well, Expedia was being lame and wouldn’t book the flight because it was too close to departure time. Instead, I booked the flight directly from the airline website and someone else did hotel and rental car. As I’m clicking through for the requested departures, entering credit card information and what not, two people walk in for a meeting. Then my phone rings.Then a grocery delivery kid swings by. I put the call through, get the meeting folks situated, take the delivery kid to the back, come back to my desk and the phone rings again. I answer it while finishing up the airline order, send the call through, confirm the airline purchase, print the ticket and take it back to the boss. BAM, random burst of busy is over. It was no skin off my teeth.

Until the boss noticed I booked his flight wrong. Both ways.

NEAT.

I swear up and down and all around that I clicked the correct flight times. The boss, fortunately, is wonderfully kind and just said, “No worries, just change it to the correct time.” Then he goes into a meeting with the folks from earlier. I still felt like a real dick though. How difficult was that task on a scale of 1 to 10?

Exactly.

I called US Airways and then a person walks in the office to pick something up from an accountant. I get that settled and then someone else walks in. This office saw more action in a 20 minute time frame than my entire four weeks in this twilight zone of a business. SO, I redialed US Airways and spoke with a nice lady. Shout out to the nice lady at US Airways. She cancelled the flight free of charge because it was booked online (I was worried it would cost $150 because I thought that’s what I heard the automated voice say before I got a live-person). I asked her to please re-book it for me over the phone so I didn’t go on another mindless clicking rampage. We sorted out travel times and she asked, “Wait. What state are you in?” I told her Arizona and since she was on the east coast, the computer wouldn’t allow her to book the flight on such short notice.

I made a desperate but inquisitive sounding squeel/grumble, kind of like, hmmm…ehhh…hgahhh!! This nice lady obvioulsy dealt with her fair share of crazy because she said, “Why don’t you book this online and I’ll stay on the phone. The time difference should allow you to book the flight” HA. I am child. But okay, it worked. I explained each stupid step as I clicked through. I realized where I made my mistake. US Airways had a big box that said “book now!” in red, with their suggested round-trip flight, not the flight I had originally clicked. I mindlessly clicked the big red link without double checking. Heh. Oops. I told the nice lady that and she just made a a sweet and slightly condescending aww sound.

Boss got the desired flight. I ate my desired lunch.

The Cons of Temp Work

Sun, 06 May 2012 18:49:00 -0700

I started temp work in February. I’ve been fortunate to keep steady, full-time work during this period. As I understand it, sometimes you can go a few days or longer without work before a job is available (that you’re qualified for) or say, have an assignment last a short time- maybe less than a week. Basically, it’s not always steady.

So congrats, self, on your bounty of temporary work!

My first gig was also my first real office job. I waited tables in college and interned at newspapers. Working 8 to 5 Monday to Friday was a new concept. The first office turned out to be quite lovely (minus this guy. I swear I also heard him once say his lobster dinner the previous night was meh. Imagine Kristen Wiig “feeling sorry” for Rose Bryne during the drunk airplane scene in Bridesmaids, that is how I felt about this kid and his so-so lobster dinner). I digress.

GIFSoup

I answered phones, delivered mail, made the coffee- real Mad Men lady stuff (I’ve only seen the pilot so I’m just assuming here). This one woman, we’ll call her Debbie, was the nicest woman ever! I asked her many questions during my two-week stay, and on my last day I said, ”Thanks for your help! Hopefully things can get back to normal around here now.” and Debbie said, “aw, they’ve felt pretty normal.’ and then she gave me a hug.

My second assignment lasted two months, just in time to start feeling normal- no more asking where things are or remembering names, I knew where shit was and I knew people’s names! Getting to that point, well, this is where my Cons of Temp Work begins. The first job, I mentioned, was two weeks. It was a small office, about 20 people or so. My duties were straightforward and Debbie was my sweet and helpful go-to woman (What is certified mail, Debbie!) Job two however, was a corporate office of something like 130 people with branches all around the west coast.

Time to fuck up accordingly!

The people I worked closely with at the corporate office were incredibly nice. But there was a lot I needed to remember and learn: computer phone system thing, answers to customer questions/who to send the customer to for the correct answer, remembering small details in fed ex shipments and so on. Once I got a handle on that, it was just my natural airheadedness that crept from behind and embarrassed me from time to time.

The time I paged a woman on the intercom system. Turns out she worked in a Texas office- Oh yeah, there was an intercom system, mostly I used it when bosses were looking for their assistants. “Judy, please dial 12345. Judy, please dial 12345.” I paged the Texas woman, Tammy, because there were four Tammy’s in the system and none of them were answering their phones to come up front, pick up and pay for their food delivery that was waiting for her. Of course the first Tammy I paged worked in a different office. A handful of people called or came up to my desk to say YOU KNOW THAT TAMMY S. WORKS IN TEXAS RIGHHHHTTT. I then learned to always check which office a person worked at before calling and paging, just be sure.

The time when for the first month or so, I was transferring calls to voicemail incorrectly- I’d call the CEO or another boss and sometimes I would be instructed to send the caller to voicemail. You dial “trasfer” “star” and then dial ”extension” -not- “star” “transfer” and then “extension” WHY I did that, I do not know. But I sent a bunch of calls to people who asked for voicemail. They never said anything to me though, I just realized it one day. I imagine some of those boss guys getting together in one of their offices with the big, cushy arm chairs and discussing the incomptence of the receptionist. ”and then I said send it to voicemail and the call came through anyway.” “I know, man, happened to me twice this morning.” Okay, this scenario is doubtful because I don’t think any of them refer to one another as “man” and also because they have actual business to attend to- not gossip about the temp.

The time I dialed 911 and hung up and 911 called me back- You have to dial “9” and “1” to place an outgoing call. I was calling 1-800-FedEx to follow up on something. You only need to dial 9-1-800-FedEx, not 9-1-1-800…. I made the other receptionist answer when 911 called back because I didn’t want to talk to the dispatcher and tell her it was just my incapabable sausage fingers- there was no emergency to report.

My incapable sausage fingers with “nail art” I tried. It just looks purple. DIY my ass.

The time I realized to make one copy of the document you’re scanning to make sure it comes out looking how it should. Do not press 60 or 110 copies right away. The law of the copy machine says if you do not do a trial run first, the document will come out wrong 110 times.

After those charming stories, my point is that the biggest downside to temp work is always being the new person who does dumb things because you don’t know any better. Well, the bigger downside is no insurance, unsteady work, and less-than-competitive pay. But I don’t feel like making myself depressed so we’ll gloss over that for the time being. Happy end of the weekend everyone- back to temping bright and early Monday morning!

PS- as always, names have been changed.

Temp Files | X-Files

Sun, 06 May 2012 15:29:00 -0700

Like Mulder- I am on the quest for the truth. My truth is work. The work is out there!

… Get it? Like The Temp Files. The Work Is Out There.

See what I did there? If you see it, keep reading. If you think those are just words, keep reading, but go take a weekend to watch of bunch of The X-Files* dvds. It’s also streaming on Netflix. No excuses.

The X-files. One of my favorite television shows! I slept with the lights on after watching Home, I cut out every picture of Mulder and Scully I could find and made collages that hung on my wall, I shipped Mulder and Scully, my BFF Mel and I bonded over a mutual love for the show, and we discovered the art of internet fan fiction together (I never wrote it though, which I think I sort of regret).

Part of the collage I made in high school

One summer evening we made our own “best of” clip show using a DVD/VHS combination player. I think that’s how we did it. I have a VHS full of shipper moments to prove it, though. Mel and I stayed up until 4am or something making the perfect clip show. High school summers, man, high school summers.

SO, what better homage to the show than to name my incredibly popular blog after it (How many readers am I up to now, three? Hey, Cindy).

* My favorite X-Files episodes. Watch a couple of these and you’ll start making collages like it’s 2000, too.

Pilot- to get things strated, ya know!

Fallen Angel

Dod Kalm

The Field Where I Died

Terma (you’ll thank me for Krycek)

Memento Mori

Redux

Redux II

The Post-Modern Prometheus

Bad Blood

Detour

Triangle

How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

Aracdia

The Unnatural

Biogenesis

All Things

Hollywood A.D.

Requiem

Scary Monsters (I know. I didn’t pick a lot from season 8 and on, Doggett, EW, but this is a good one).

I tried not to go overboard. I failed. But whatever, these are all worth watching- whether a marathon one weekend or just peppered here and there into your television routine.

Driving to work is a capricious affair because of one, universal...

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 22:54:00 -0700

Driving to work is a capricious affair because of one, universal occurrence. Traffic.

Yeah, did your shoulders just tense up? Mine too.

I start my morning with a few minutes of television news while my brain wakes up and I sip coffee. I’ve developed an irrational hatred for the lady who covers freeway traffic. Why is she so happy when she says things like, “It’s stop and go all the way to 75th!” or “That accident has closed down this freeway, here are your alternate routes”… okay, that one is very helpful. But I kid you not, the other day I was making my lunch and I heard her say, “Traffic is starting to get heavier so put down your wheaties…”

DON’T RUSH ME WOMAN. ugh. I turned the tv off and finished getting ready because I wanted to, not because she recommended it.

My temp jobs have all been about 20 miles from my home. The agency I was set up with happens to work with offices that far away. I didn’t realize this fact when I first started. I suppose I could have said screw this, I’m going to find myself a job closer to home. HA! I don’t think I’d be temping if work was so easy to find. But, I like the agency I work with and I’m glad to be working. Things could be worse, I could commute 100 miles. So, see, glass half full.

My first temp job was 30 miles away. It took about 45-50 minutes in the morning (I’d leave earlier than necessary to beat most, not all, traffic) but the way home was an hour. Add an accident or two, it was an hour and 15 minutes. I only worked there for two weeks, so I managed. I’m in an area now that’s about 22 miles away.

If I leave when I am supposed to, 22 miles doesn’t bother me. I’ve accepted I’m going to be scootin’ along for a while. Now the other three or four days of the week I seem to leave 5 to 10 minutes later than I should (I couldn’t decide if I should wear a belt or not, okay?! Something like that.) and I have to remind myself to take deep breaths when my lane won’t. fucking. move. I screamed once, I actually screamed at the top of my lungs, it was like frustrations flew right out of my mouth! Traffic did not move any faster, though. Lesson: don’t scream, you dweeb.

Well, my solution for spending so much time crawling along in my car is a playlist. Here’s what is currently pumping through my little toyota speakers today:

Comeback Kid- Sleighbells

A Little Respect- Erasures

Feels So Close- Calvin Harris

Lions in Cages- Wolf Gang

Buttons- Sia

Starry Eyed- Ellie Goulding

In A Big Country- Big Country

Rain Over Me- Pit Bull ft. Marc Anthony (please watch the video and then imagine the video while driving. You won’t feel traffic stress, you’ll be laughing at those dorks dancing in the desert. PS, it can’t be good to let vodka sit in the sun, guys.)

Louboutins- Jennifer Lopez (she’s on all my playlists and it just makes sense to put her next to Marc Anthony, divorced or not!)

My Delirium- LadyHawke

This isn’t every song, more like a best-of. I’ve arranged it to a musical flow that keeps me entertained and feeling good. Comeback Kid eases the absolute despair of turning onto the freeway only to come to a complete stop. Then as I start inching along I can happily sing along just to the Erasures! and so on and so forth. I recommend putting together songs that get you pumped up or take you somewhere else completely. Before you know it, you’re at work, ready to temp the day away!

PS. This also works as a gym playlist, obviously!

Office perks: someone brought pizza!

Sat, 21 Apr 2012 22:06:35 -0700

Office perks: someone brought pizza!