Hey now now
Most of my time is wasted at work lately. That's right. Work! My lazy days of unemployment finally ended Monday when I started a three-month assignment completing office tasks any semi-literate person (me, for instance) could perform. Hurrah!
My job is to sort bundles of paperwork into different piles determined by date, subject and location separated by an-easy-to-identify color coding. Then, in a dramatically unprecedented move, I continue the morning fulfilling other blissfully dull chores that require no soul or effort whatsoever, like folding pamphlets, stuffing envelopes, running errands, collating while listening to the radio at a reasonable volume from nine to eleven, and various other tedious office tasks the permanent staff (or 'perms,' if you're retarded) isn't willing to do.
Even though the menacing glares suggest some would love to trash the erratic photocopier with a baseball bat, there's no useless department-manager on my floor rhetorically asking 'what's happening' as a conversation opener, there's no equivalent to a TPS report to fill out either, and I am yet to encounter a neurotic outcast searching for his beloved stapler. The movie may have lied to me. I'm so disillusioned. There is, however, a handful of other inconsequential temps, mostly around my age, and an endless stream of data waiting to be filed, the privilege of which has been generously entrusted upon me.
The supervisor approving my contributions notwithstanding, I have little clue about what I am doing. I have no idea where the piles of paperwork come from, or where they go once I'm done filing them. And while I abhor (which means 'hate,' I think) being treated like a second-class citizen in the office hierarchy, there's always someone to remind me of the fact that I'm not being paid to think the process through. I'm just another lowly temp.
Not surprisingly the full-timers rarely mingle with gross temps, although someone did borrow a marker from me the other day. They mostly act like we don't exist, never nodding 'good morning,' avoiding eye contact when they zoom past in the hallways. They're probably undead. I encountered one of the busy bees in the elevator on my first day. I was trying to walk out as he was attempting to enter. He sighed impatiently as I walked by. The poor thing. On a positive note, a pretty assistant-administrator has innocuously been flirting with me in the cafeteria. Score! But to my readers who might be jealous of her playful frolicking with their favorite blogger, don't be - she's in her late twenties and candidly too damn old for careless, uninvolved me. Don't worry about it.
The repetitive work has left me mentally aloof these past two days. I spent lunch morosely wondering how to break the monotonous flow of the boring, boring mornings without having to resort to drugs. All of them. Might as well get used to being stuck in a cubicle job. The forthcoming year will likely revolve around similar days of meandering through mundane office cultures, hastily scribbled memos, lifeless small talk and endless first impressions. Such is the life of a nomadic data-entry temp.
Whatever. At least I don't have to live off unemployment.
My job is to sort bundles of paperwork into different piles determined by date, subject and location separated by an-easy-to-identify color coding. Then, in a dramatically unprecedented move, I continue the morning fulfilling other blissfully dull chores that require no soul or effort whatsoever, like folding pamphlets, stuffing envelopes, running errands, collating while listening to the radio at a reasonable volume from nine to eleven, and various other tedious office tasks the permanent staff (or 'perms,' if you're retarded) isn't willing to do.
Even though the menacing glares suggest some would love to trash the erratic photocopier with a baseball bat, there's no useless department-manager on my floor rhetorically asking 'what's happening' as a conversation opener, there's no equivalent to a TPS report to fill out either, and I am yet to encounter a neurotic outcast searching for his beloved stapler. The movie may have lied to me. I'm so disillusioned. There is, however, a handful of other inconsequential temps, mostly around my age, and an endless stream of data waiting to be filed, the privilege of which has been generously entrusted upon me.
The supervisor approving my contributions notwithstanding, I have little clue about what I am doing. I have no idea where the piles of paperwork come from, or where they go once I'm done filing them. And while I abhor (which means 'hate,' I think) being treated like a second-class citizen in the office hierarchy, there's always someone to remind me of the fact that I'm not being paid to think the process through. I'm just another lowly temp.
Not surprisingly the full-timers rarely mingle with gross temps, although someone did borrow a marker from me the other day. They mostly act like we don't exist, never nodding 'good morning,' avoiding eye contact when they zoom past in the hallways. They're probably undead. I encountered one of the busy bees in the elevator on my first day. I was trying to walk out as he was attempting to enter. He sighed impatiently as I walked by. The poor thing. On a positive note, a pretty assistant-administrator has innocuously been flirting with me in the cafeteria. Score! But to my readers who might be jealous of her playful frolicking with their favorite blogger, don't be - she's in her late twenties and candidly too damn old for careless, uninvolved me. Don't worry about it.
The repetitive work has left me mentally aloof these past two days. I spent lunch morosely wondering how to break the monotonous flow of the boring, boring mornings without having to resort to drugs. All of them. Might as well get used to being stuck in a cubicle job. The forthcoming year will likely revolve around similar days of meandering through mundane office cultures, hastily scribbled memos, lifeless small talk and endless first impressions. Such is the life of a nomadic data-entry temp.
Whatever. At least I don't have to live off unemployment.
posted by oy Matthew at 17:04
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