The Glorious Start of it All

As a temp en route to a new assignment, I never know what kind of environment I'm going to be working in, or exactly what the work will be. It's really all in the luck of the draw.

Imagine this scenario (I don't need to imagine it -- it was a reality for me): a supervisor leads me down a long hallway, to a remote area at the very end. I'm shown into this tiny room with no windows -- not much of anything else for that matter, except two workstations facing opposite sides of the walls. I see this one lone woman with an enormous stack of invoices next to her, typing away at her computer. Before the supervisor leaves, he tells the woman to teach me what she's doing. The woman sits me down at the opposite computer terminal, and shows me how to enter the information from the seemingly endless stack of invoices into the company's database system.

I tried my best to listen and digest the instructions, but the situation was so dismal and depressing that I found my mind wandering to all of these thoughts other than the task on hand: This woman seems so nice. Is this really her life -- entering numbers, day after day, in this small, isolated room with no windows, while life outside passes her by? What has my life come to, that I'm in this situation now? I can't do this... I just can't....

I started to get upset, and overcome with emotion. (Certain situations break my spirit, and this was one of them.) Try as I might, couldn't stop myself -- I started crying as I was typing in the numbers. The woman saw my distress, and put her hand gently on my back. In a soft, reassuring voice, she said, "It's okay. I know it seems hard at first, but you'll get it. At first I didn't understand, but then I learned how to do it." I knew she was trying to help, but her little pep talk didn't make me feel any better. I didn't care about not understanding the data entry process -- it was the whole working situation that was affecting me.

When my crying ceased and I was somewhat composed, I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I also took many deep breaths. When I saw myself in the mirror, I looked like hell. (Mr. DeMille, I am not ready for my close-up!) I came back red-faced, but firm in my decision that I had to, and was going to get out of this place.

I told the supervisor that I was sorry, but I was the wrong person for the job. He couldn't understand why I was so upset, but thankfully I was allowed to leave without an interrogation.

Maybe in a past life I was tortured with data entry. Maybe it's a mental block. I don't know, and I don't want to find out what happens if I'm mistakenly given a data entry job again.

That was one miserable experience, and while we're at it, here's another (well, this one wasn't miserable per se -- it just wasn't any fun at all):

One morning, while working in the H.R. department of a bank, I proceeded to eat an apple at around eleven o'clock. The woman I was working for (who, if I may say so, definitely had a stick up her ass), saw me eating my apple, and curtly said, "I don't want any eating at your desk."

Rebelling against what I deemed to be an unjust rule (what if I'm hypoglycemic -- you gonna stand there and watch me have an attack?), the next day I hid some sliced fruit on a plate in my desk drawer, and snuck pieces when she wasn't looking. But wouldn't you know it, she happened to need something from that very drawer, and opened it before I had a chance to react.

To her ghastly surprise, she saw my plate of fruit. I was snagged -- caught in the act like a common criminal. Damn! "I told you there is no eating at your desk! This is non-negotiable!" From that point on, I had to quickly eat my snack in the kitchen. Good thing it was only a temp job.

On the lighter side, one of the exciting parts about temping (aside from the new stuff you learn and the people you meet) is getting to open the office mail. "Is she crazy?" you must be asking yourself. Oh, no, I'm not. The reason I like opening the mail is because then I get to confiscate -- and later reuse -- all of the unstamped stamps I come upon.

As astonishing as this may sound, I've found seven unstamped stamps in a mere two days at the job I'm temping at now -- I've really hit the unstamped stamp mother lode! And I'll be here for three more weeks... imagine the possibilities! Another plus is that I get to work in the cool Flatiron Building. Not too shabby.

What's next around the bend? Hopefully finding a permanent job, but until then, it's the uncharted territory of temp jobs for me.