Spanish Cable TV Data Entry Hell 

When some people clean the house, they say they don't do windows. Personally, I don't have a problem with windows. But in my work as a temp, there is something I have a problem with: DATA ENTRY. Forget about Chinese water torture -- that takes too long. Just assign me a large data entry project, and like clockwork it will soon break me down into a withering mess of tears.

It was a Friday in mid-July, and it was going to be a scorcher of a day. I was booked for a one-day job at a Spanish cable TV station. I showed up at nine a.m., as requested, and sat waiting for an entire hour before my supervisor arrived.

She came over and said hello, and then, "I have a project for you." ("Project" isn't something you necessarily want to hear when you're a temp. Many times, it could mean some tedious job no one else wants to do, so they call in a temp to do it.)

My supervisor walked away. A minute or so later she came back carrying a massive three-ring binder (oh, how I love three-ring binders!) stuffed to near bursting. She showed me to a desk, placed the binder down, opened it, and then opened an Excel document on my computer. Moments after she began describing the task on hand, I realized it was none other than a MONSTROUS DATA ENTRY PROJECT! She said, "This should keep you busy all day." After the brief explanatory period (this wasn't a complicated task, just a mindless, brain-numbing one), she left me to my work.

I don't think my agency knew the job was strictly data entry -- if they'd had known, they would have described it as such and I wouldn't have taken it. But regardless of the how and why, all I knew was there I was, alone in some strange office, left to perform the very task I so incredibly loathe. In the past, I would have attempted the dreaded job, become gradually more and more upset in the process, and inevitably the outcome would not have been pretty.

But not today. Today was going to be different. Calmly, I thought, It's simple -- I'm not going to do it. I will not be tortured in my life as a temp. I can still pay my rent if I don't work today, or even for a while -- that's why I have a savings -- so I'm never in a desperate, I-have-to-work situation. And if my agency doesn't like my leaving this job? Well, they recently made about $10,000 commission when I worked those eight months at the aerospace defense company -- I'm sure they'll be able to handle a one-day job not working out.

I called my counselor. She wasn't at her desk, so I left a message to please call me back ASAP, because I had a "problem" with the assignment. I waited about twenty minutes for a callback, and... nothing. After five more minutes, I decided that was it.

I walked to my supervisor's desk. I politely said, "I'm sorry, but I can't do this data entry job -- I can't enter numbers all day. There must have been a mistake -- I wasn't told this job would be data entry. I'd like to leave now, and I'm sorry for any inconvenience I have caused. I won't charge your company for the hour and a half I was here -- let's just pretend I was never here. If you call my agency, they can send you a different temp today."

The supervisor wasn't pleased after my little speech, but she didn't seem mad. After all, temps are human beings that are entitled to their feelings, right? I said my good-byes, and off I went.

I had plans to take a six o'clock bus to Woodstock, but given my change of situation I could now catch a much earlier one. Heading to the Port Authority in the oppressive heat, I felt good. I had stood up for what I believed in, and put my own happiness first, at a time when I realistically could (it's not like I skipped out on some important meeting). I refused to let myself be made miserable from a bad temp job.

After arriving in Woodstock, soon I was cruising down a country road, singing along to great tunes playing on my stereo. I was heading for the water's edge, the Esopus creek, my favorite place to go swimming upstate in the summer.

When I reached my destination, I parked my car by the side of the road, and walked down the creek's rocky embankment. I found a nice spot where I was completely alone. I peeled off my shorts and shirt (yes, I had a bathing suit on underneath).

I slowly waded up to my waist in the cool, crisp water. I closed my eyes and dropped my head back, and just stood there, feeling the swift current rush around me, and the sun beam its bright, hot rays on my face. I reveled in the magnificence of this summer day in the country.

After a quick dip under, I stepped out of the water, incredibly refreshed. As I lay on my mat so contently, I listened to the rushing stream, and felt the mixture of sun and breeze as it dried the water from my skin.

I smiled as I thought back to a few hours before, when I was sitting at that desk, staring at those rows and rows of numbers. I didn't doubt my decision of leaving for a second.

All is well and good, right? Not exactly....

The Net Result of my Actions

So much for standing up for myself -- I got canned, totally!

When I escaped from the city that sweltering Friday, I didn't check my answering machine until Sunday morning. I found the following message from my temp counselor:

"Laura, this is [her name] over at [temp company's name]. It's about 10:30, and I was expecting to call you back at [name of company I was temping at], not at home, but this will suit me just fine. Just wanted to let you know I thought how very unreliable and unprofessional it was for you to just walk off the job and, um, just wanted to let you know hope you keep on walking, 'cause don't ever bother to call me again. I will NOT be able to find you another assignment, so consider your employment with [temp company's name] terminated. Thank you so much (sarcastic tone). Good-bye."

Did I deserve this? Maybe yes, maybe no -- maybe partially? Whatever the case, I certainly (inadvertently) burned my bridges on that one. It's a good thing there are a lot of agencies in the city -- it's time to find another one!

Please, though -- no more data entry. I have a brain that likes to function. I need variety -- I don't want to feel like a machine. Is that too much to ask?