Temping
I've been temping to make the buck. It's the highest paying job I've ever had. I work downtown, in the fifth tallest building in Chicago. I'm an administrative assistant and I wear fancy clothes and feel chic and important when I walk down Randolph Street. But I know I'm not. And I know that when I get to work I'm the bottom of the totum pole. Everyone will pile their shit on me and I get to sift through it and clean it up.
Today I get to Randolph St. early. I'm feeling happy to be early. I'm wearing a great outfit and I'm going to go to Starbucks and get a coffee and some bread. I hand the cashier my Starbuck's gift card (from mommy) and she tells me they don't take Starbucks gift cards: their particular store is owned by Macy's. I look to my left into Macy's home store. A Christmas tree stares back at me. Christmas tree already? Fuck. Fine, I tell her, here's my debit card.
I sit down at the bar all by myself. There is a big picture window and I'm watchign the people pass by. Some short. Some tall. Some hot. Some not. Some with great style. Some need help. I sip on my chai. I eat my banana loaf. I've got a good 20 minutes. Then I'll go in early and look sharp and kiss ass.
Then I hear a voice. A woman orders a drink. When she gets it she scolds the barista for not putting sugar in it. The barista explains that the drink normally doesn't come with it. The woman tells her to put some in anyway. I think the woman is being a bitch. I try to ignore it. I sip on my chai and pull out my notebook. I begin to calculate how much money I'll make this week and how much we can spend on groceries and the film. It dwindles fast. But that's ok.
Then the woman sits next to me. A friend joins her and they gaggle about how her friend is late and how her friend almost had to take the train, god forbid. Her friend shrieks with laughter about how she whined to her husband until he gave in and drove her downtown. "A little bit of whining goes a long way," she says sickenly. The woman agrees, "Yes, just a little can help." I feel slight sharp pain somewhere in my head region. I want to wrap the woman and her friend in cellophane and put them on top of the Christmas tree that grew in Macy's in fucking September.
I continue with my breakfast and listen to the duo gripe and moan about how redecorating the home can be such a pain. "It's so much to think about!" says the friend. I glance over. The woman is putting on lipstick. She looks like a giant fish. I couldn't stand it anymore. I decide to leave. Early to work won't hurt anything.
I gather my things and leave. As I'm headed to work I have to walk by the princess and the pea. The pea looks at me and we lock eyes. I know and she knows why I had to leave. And then, as if I had no control over it, I rolled my eyes at her and gave her the norny face. As I walked away, I laughed in my head for a good ten minutes.
Later I spotted some mentally handicapped kids asking for money. I gave dollar. I barely have one to my name. But I feel guilty and I want to cancel out my immature, yet satisfying behavior.
I was punished for it anyway. When I arrive to work things are calm. I'm starting to think that the Queen is out for the day. Which means I get to work with Lisa the other temp and no one is mean and I can go at my own pace. But then, like a tsunami, the Queen arrives.
"Good morning Jessica! Oh, so glad you are back. We missed you so!" She really didn't know I was gone. They work with so many temps and I've only worked with them two days. But apparently that makes me qualified to be her personal runner for the day.
"Can you grab a sharp pencil with an eraser and come into my office? Thank you?!"
Is she kidding I wonder? Did she just tell me to get a sharp pencil with an eraser. I feel like I'm in third grade math. Is she going to give me one of those multiplication tables that I'll have 1 minute to do. Those fascinated me and scared me all at once. I realize there are no pencils. ANYWHERE. I'm searching cupboards, pencil cups, other people's desk's, other people's purses. There are no pencils!!! Got one. Finally got one. I grab a notepad and fly to her cave.
"Oh fabulous!Ok, I need you to take the school calendar here. I have 3 children, first grade, fourth grade, and sixth grade. I need you to write in my small calendar all the dates they don't have school. Also, please write this in my large binder calendar ok?"
Ok, but where are these things bitch? I bite my tongue and smile. She hands me both calendars.
"Oh, but you'll have to print their school schedule online. Also, go into my email please, right now, right this minute, and print all new emails from today. Oh, and can you please take this card here and write it in my planner?"
She picks up the phone and calls Donald for a meeting. I read the card. Its reads DR.KONCH 2PM APPT. MARCH 7 2009. 2009? I flip through her planner. She has a planner all the way until 2009. As I'm writing this in she puts herself on mute while Donald is still talking about numbers in Europe. She hands me a paper.
"Find this in the K drive, print it, make these changes, save it."
I nod in total confidence. WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE TALKING ABOUT? I feel hot and I'm searching in the K drive. Searching, searching, holy shit. Found it! Ha! Can't trick me. I make the changes. I'm just about to save it.
"Jessica," she whispers fiercely, "Jessica, take this and delete it from my email. Do that now. X out of that now and do that first."
She's watching me. I don't want to X out of it bitch, all I need to do is save it. Let me just...."Jessica, do this now. Do that first."
I X out of it. I find the email. I delete it. I throw the hard copy in the recycle bin. She's back in her conversation. Good, I can figure out what the hell is going on now. I continue with my list. She hangs up moments later.
"Ok, so let's see, I need you to ok, let's not do the calendar right now. Open this email," she hands me the hard copy. I search for it. I open it. "Reply with history. 'Number one'." I type "number one". She looks over my shoulder. "No, just the number 1 will be fine." Oh, I feel stupid. I fix it. She continues talking. I'm typing to keep up. I send with lots of trouble due to a slow system and she gets frustrated.
She throws a few more things on me and in the middle of my printing her requests she abruptly says "ok, I'm going to ask you leave now so go ahead and work out at your desk for a while."
I'm grabbing papers from the printer. I don't want to just leave work laying around, I'm in the middle of your list and it will confuse me if I leave I won't know what I've done!!! But instead I say "Ok, let me just grab these."
She interupts, "Ok, don't worry about it, don't worry about it, just go and thank you!" I'm grabbing all my papers and calendars and lists. I get to the door only to realize I've left something personal. I go back and retrieve my chai tea that has one little sip left from two hours ago.
I go sit at "my" desk. I stare at the screen. Look at all this shit she wants me to do. I don't even know what this company does. I don't even know how to do half of these things. And she was just very rude to me. I go to the bathroom. Lisa looks at me. I know she's worried I'm pissed. She's been there a month and she knows now.
When Queen comes in Lisa is at her door with pencil and paper. Probably why she gets to come back. I'm contemplating whether she's lucky.
I sit on the toilet and think about how I felt this morning, chipper and rebellious. I feel small and strange right now. It's only temporary, that's why my stepmom always says. It's only temporary.
I go back to my desk. Lisa peers over my cubicle. "Hey I think we want you to come back next week!" She's smiling. She's nice because we are both artists and we both want the same thing. Work. Money. Security. I tell her thanks and that sounds great.
By the end of the day, Lisa and I take turns bowing down to Queenie. I consider making a pretend file folder called "This Place Sucks My Ballsack." Inside of it I would put a picture of Queenie as a spider hanging from the outside of the building at our floor, 56. Outside Queenie's window are tons of spiders living in their webs. Between us is only a piece of glass. Sometimes when Queenie is on a break I sit and stare at them as they dangle above the skyline. They are secure in their tangled webs.
When 5:00 hits I'm out of there. I wave to Lisa who is sitting by Queenie. I'm guessing she's gotten sucked in to working overtime. That's one thing I won't do.
I walk 15 minutes to my temp agency and get my check. It's raining. I don't care. I go to the bank and grab the bus. The bus breaks down and we all have to get off. It's pouring. I still don't care. I go to the gym. I read an article in Allure about how Britney Spears doesn't show up for the interview. Maybe she's tired. I don't care. I run. I run and sweat and walk home. I go to the gas station and get a fountain coke. I'm really craving it.
Tomorrow it's Friday. TGIF. Something I haven't really felt in a long time. I'll wear jeans. Maybe tomorrow I'll find a Starbucks that takes my gift card.
Today I get to Randolph St. early. I'm feeling happy to be early. I'm wearing a great outfit and I'm going to go to Starbucks and get a coffee and some bread. I hand the cashier my Starbuck's gift card (from mommy) and she tells me they don't take Starbucks gift cards: their particular store is owned by Macy's. I look to my left into Macy's home store. A Christmas tree stares back at me. Christmas tree already? Fuck. Fine, I tell her, here's my debit card.
I sit down at the bar all by myself. There is a big picture window and I'm watchign the people pass by. Some short. Some tall. Some hot. Some not. Some with great style. Some need help. I sip on my chai. I eat my banana loaf. I've got a good 20 minutes. Then I'll go in early and look sharp and kiss ass.
Then I hear a voice. A woman orders a drink. When she gets it she scolds the barista for not putting sugar in it. The barista explains that the drink normally doesn't come with it. The woman tells her to put some in anyway. I think the woman is being a bitch. I try to ignore it. I sip on my chai and pull out my notebook. I begin to calculate how much money I'll make this week and how much we can spend on groceries and the film. It dwindles fast. But that's ok.
Then the woman sits next to me. A friend joins her and they gaggle about how her friend is late and how her friend almost had to take the train, god forbid. Her friend shrieks with laughter about how she whined to her husband until he gave in and drove her downtown. "A little bit of whining goes a long way," she says sickenly. The woman agrees, "Yes, just a little can help." I feel slight sharp pain somewhere in my head region. I want to wrap the woman and her friend in cellophane and put them on top of the Christmas tree that grew in Macy's in fucking September.
I continue with my breakfast and listen to the duo gripe and moan about how redecorating the home can be such a pain. "It's so much to think about!" says the friend. I glance over. The woman is putting on lipstick. She looks like a giant fish. I couldn't stand it anymore. I decide to leave. Early to work won't hurt anything.
I gather my things and leave. As I'm headed to work I have to walk by the princess and the pea. The pea looks at me and we lock eyes. I know and she knows why I had to leave. And then, as if I had no control over it, I rolled my eyes at her and gave her the norny face. As I walked away, I laughed in my head for a good ten minutes.
Later I spotted some mentally handicapped kids asking for money. I gave dollar. I barely have one to my name. But I feel guilty and I want to cancel out my immature, yet satisfying behavior.
I was punished for it anyway. When I arrive to work things are calm. I'm starting to think that the Queen is out for the day. Which means I get to work with Lisa the other temp and no one is mean and I can go at my own pace. But then, like a tsunami, the Queen arrives.
"Good morning Jessica! Oh, so glad you are back. We missed you so!" She really didn't know I was gone. They work with so many temps and I've only worked with them two days. But apparently that makes me qualified to be her personal runner for the day.
"Can you grab a sharp pencil with an eraser and come into my office? Thank you?!"
Is she kidding I wonder? Did she just tell me to get a sharp pencil with an eraser. I feel like I'm in third grade math. Is she going to give me one of those multiplication tables that I'll have 1 minute to do. Those fascinated me and scared me all at once. I realize there are no pencils. ANYWHERE. I'm searching cupboards, pencil cups, other people's desk's, other people's purses. There are no pencils!!! Got one. Finally got one. I grab a notepad and fly to her cave.
"Oh fabulous!Ok, I need you to take the school calendar here. I have 3 children, first grade, fourth grade, and sixth grade. I need you to write in my small calendar all the dates they don't have school. Also, please write this in my large binder calendar ok?"
Ok, but where are these things bitch? I bite my tongue and smile. She hands me both calendars.
"Oh, but you'll have to print their school schedule online. Also, go into my email please, right now, right this minute, and print all new emails from today. Oh, and can you please take this card here and write it in my planner?"
She picks up the phone and calls Donald for a meeting. I read the card. Its reads DR.KONCH 2PM APPT. MARCH 7 2009. 2009? I flip through her planner. She has a planner all the way until 2009. As I'm writing this in she puts herself on mute while Donald is still talking about numbers in Europe. She hands me a paper.
"Find this in the K drive, print it, make these changes, save it."
I nod in total confidence. WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE TALKING ABOUT? I feel hot and I'm searching in the K drive. Searching, searching, holy shit. Found it! Ha! Can't trick me. I make the changes. I'm just about to save it.
"Jessica," she whispers fiercely, "Jessica, take this and delete it from my email. Do that now. X out of that now and do that first."
She's watching me. I don't want to X out of it bitch, all I need to do is save it. Let me just...."Jessica, do this now. Do that first."
I X out of it. I find the email. I delete it. I throw the hard copy in the recycle bin. She's back in her conversation. Good, I can figure out what the hell is going on now. I continue with my list. She hangs up moments later.
"Ok, so let's see, I need you to ok, let's not do the calendar right now. Open this email," she hands me the hard copy. I search for it. I open it. "Reply with history. 'Number one'." I type "number one". She looks over my shoulder. "No, just the number 1 will be fine." Oh, I feel stupid. I fix it. She continues talking. I'm typing to keep up. I send with lots of trouble due to a slow system and she gets frustrated.
She throws a few more things on me and in the middle of my printing her requests she abruptly says "ok, I'm going to ask you leave now so go ahead and work out at your desk for a while."
I'm grabbing papers from the printer. I don't want to just leave work laying around, I'm in the middle of your list and it will confuse me if I leave I won't know what I've done!!! But instead I say "Ok, let me just grab these."
She interupts, "Ok, don't worry about it, don't worry about it, just go and thank you!" I'm grabbing all my papers and calendars and lists. I get to the door only to realize I've left something personal. I go back and retrieve my chai tea that has one little sip left from two hours ago.
I go sit at "my" desk. I stare at the screen. Look at all this shit she wants me to do. I don't even know what this company does. I don't even know how to do half of these things. And she was just very rude to me. I go to the bathroom. Lisa looks at me. I know she's worried I'm pissed. She's been there a month and she knows now.
When Queen comes in Lisa is at her door with pencil and paper. Probably why she gets to come back. I'm contemplating whether she's lucky.
I sit on the toilet and think about how I felt this morning, chipper and rebellious. I feel small and strange right now. It's only temporary, that's why my stepmom always says. It's only temporary.
I go back to my desk. Lisa peers over my cubicle. "Hey I think we want you to come back next week!" She's smiling. She's nice because we are both artists and we both want the same thing. Work. Money. Security. I tell her thanks and that sounds great.
By the end of the day, Lisa and I take turns bowing down to Queenie. I consider making a pretend file folder called "This Place Sucks My Ballsack." Inside of it I would put a picture of Queenie as a spider hanging from the outside of the building at our floor, 56. Outside Queenie's window are tons of spiders living in their webs. Between us is only a piece of glass. Sometimes when Queenie is on a break I sit and stare at them as they dangle above the skyline. They are secure in their tangled webs.
When 5:00 hits I'm out of there. I wave to Lisa who is sitting by Queenie. I'm guessing she's gotten sucked in to working overtime. That's one thing I won't do.
I walk 15 minutes to my temp agency and get my check. It's raining. I don't care. I go to the bank and grab the bus. The bus breaks down and we all have to get off. It's pouring. I still don't care. I go to the gym. I read an article in Allure about how Britney Spears doesn't show up for the interview. Maybe she's tired. I don't care. I run. I run and sweat and walk home. I go to the gas station and get a fountain coke. I'm really craving it.
Tomorrow it's Friday. TGIF. Something I haven't really felt in a long time. I'll wear jeans. Maybe tomorrow I'll find a Starbucks that takes my gift card.
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