The Batman of Santa Cruz (businesses)
Ah. Working temp is the life. Sure, there are days when I don’t work, and I do get bad assignments (I won’t name names here). But it is a sweet gig. I get vacation time whenever I want, receive a check in the mail every week, and am offered cookies and bagels wherever I go. Right now I’m munching on an oatmeal-raisin cookie.
Even though working as an office temp isn’t what I want to do (what do I want to do?), it suits me for now. I’m in California to experience, explore, and write. Working as an office temp allows me to do each. I’m still searching for a real, full time job. But chaining myself to a desk isn’t what I want to do. I want to be free, and I am.
Today I landed a half-day at a law firm. The normal receptionist wasn’t feeling well so she called my temp agency for a replacement. That’s where I came in. I was sitting in my pajamas at my computer, reading through local and national news sites, with one last Pop-Tart waiting in its silver pouch next to my keyboard. I got a call from Manpower. A half hour later I was answering phones, sorting mail, and eating cookies.
I’m like Batman to the Santa Cruz office scene. Only I’m not rich, don’t have a cool car, and arrive at the scene of the crime in business casual attire.
For the most part everyone is nice when I arrive and start working. They introduce themselves and let me know what they do. They know I’m not a clerical whiz and will have trouble with their system at first. Everyone understands (except at the place I won’t name). When I screw up, or have an irate caller on the phone, I say, “I’m sorry. I’m just a temp.” What excuse is better?
Working temp is interesting, too. There’s no other way to say it. Today a man came into the law firm and needed to sign a restraining order. While reading over the statements he said, “I can’t threaten or harm my ex wife? What?” I didn’t say anything. He handed the signed form back to me and left.
When I answered phones at Goodwill I got three or four calls a day from people who wanted to donate upright organs, the miniature versions of church organs. Apparently they were very popular once. The company didn’t accept them, so I always suggested the caller contact a local church or school.
I’m in the last hour of the day. If the receptionist calls in sick tomorrow they want me back. But I won’t know until then. I may work tomorrow, and I may not.
Ah. Life as an office temp.
Even though working as an office temp isn’t what I want to do (what do I want to do?), it suits me for now. I’m in California to experience, explore, and write. Working as an office temp allows me to do each. I’m still searching for a real, full time job. But chaining myself to a desk isn’t what I want to do. I want to be free, and I am.
Today I landed a half-day at a law firm. The normal receptionist wasn’t feeling well so she called my temp agency for a replacement. That’s where I came in. I was sitting in my pajamas at my computer, reading through local and national news sites, with one last Pop-Tart waiting in its silver pouch next to my keyboard. I got a call from Manpower. A half hour later I was answering phones, sorting mail, and eating cookies.
I’m like Batman to the Santa Cruz office scene. Only I’m not rich, don’t have a cool car, and arrive at the scene of the crime in business casual attire.
For the most part everyone is nice when I arrive and start working. They introduce themselves and let me know what they do. They know I’m not a clerical whiz and will have trouble with their system at first. Everyone understands (except at the place I won’t name). When I screw up, or have an irate caller on the phone, I say, “I’m sorry. I’m just a temp.” What excuse is better?
Working temp is interesting, too. There’s no other way to say it. Today a man came into the law firm and needed to sign a restraining order. While reading over the statements he said, “I can’t threaten or harm my ex wife? What?” I didn’t say anything. He handed the signed form back to me and left.
When I answered phones at Goodwill I got three or four calls a day from people who wanted to donate upright organs, the miniature versions of church organs. Apparently they were very popular once. The company didn’t accept them, so I always suggested the caller contact a local church or school.
I’m in the last hour of the day. If the receptionist calls in sick tomorrow they want me back. But I won’t know until then. I may work tomorrow, and I may not.
Ah. Life as an office temp.
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