Trouble in Temp Town

Here I am – almost five months into my eight-month temporary assignment at a large, humble company with headquarters in Redmond, Washington. This is the longest temp job I’ve ever had and I’m getting antsy.

I'd like to have a permanent position and all the perks that go along with it. I’d like to be able to go to company and department meetings. I’d like to be able to participate in contests and other events. I’d like to know that I really am part of a team. I’d like to think that there is a future for me there.

Conversely, I like working and getting a paycheck. I like the challenge of trying to figure stuff out (i.e. "Where is that darn women's bathroom? I know I saw it around here somewhere...") without all of the usual training that permanent employees receive. I like showing up everyday and surprising people that are accustomed to having temp employees “call in sick” when they don’t feel like going to work. I like to do a good job with most things I tackle.

And I’d love to share detailed stories of my temping, but I don’t because I’m never sure who is reading this blog. However, yesterday I came across a blog, Laura’s NYC Tales, written by someone named Laura. The blog is divided into six sections and one of them is titled, Temping Escapades. I read the six Temping Escapades stories (on my lunch break, of course) and laughed and laughed and laughed. I wish I’d kept a notebook about all of my crazy temp assignments so that I could write a book!

And thank you Laura (whoever you are) for writing your stories. Following is a sample that lifted my spirits. Read it! Laugh about it! Think about me!

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. Counselors at placement agencies have a job order that serves as a basic guideline, but you can't go by that alone. Landing a good temp job is really all in the luck of the draw.

I was booked for a job working in the administrative offices of a hospital. After meeting my supervisor, he led me down a long hallway to a remote area at the very end. I was shown into a tiny, windowless room containing two back-to-back workstations facing opposite walls. One of the workstations was vacant; in the other was this extremely sad-looking woman typing away at her computer. Beside her was a stack of papers that teetered to the sky.

The supervisor mumbled a few words to the woman and then left. You're not going to leave me here, are you? I guess you are....

The woman sat me down at the vacant computer and began to explain what she did all day -- and now what I would be doing all day: entering information from the endless stack of invoices into the hospital's database system. I tried to digest her instructions, but I found the entire situation so dismal and depressing that my mind wandered to all these thoughts other than the task on hand. This woman seems so nice. Is this really her life, sitting here in this isolated room, entering numbers day after day while life outside passes her by? Does she have a boyfriend? Is she happy?... How does she do this job? I can't do it... I just can't....

I started to get overcome with emotion. Try as I might I couldn't hold back my tears, and started sobbing minutes after she left me to my work. Feeling sorry about my distress, she came over 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 nodded in agreement, trying to make it seem like her pep talk was helping. But the truth was I couldn't have cared less about the data entry process.

When my crying spell ceased I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face and took many deep breaths. When I saw my reflection in the mirror, I thought to myself that 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 found my supervisor and told him I was sorry, but I was the wrong person for the job. He didn't know why it upset me so, but thankfully I was allowed to leave without an interrogation. My agency? Well, they weren't thrilled, but they didn't fire me.

After my disastrous reaction to this job, I realized something I never knew about myself: I possessed an almost psychotic aversion to data entry. It's completely soulless to me, and it affects my sense of self-worth -- or lack of it -- on a deep, almost primal level. When I do data entry I can't help but think, Is entering numbers into a spreadsheet all I'm capable of in life? No, I know I can do more. Much more.

I made sure to double check that subsequent temp jobs would not be data entry. But like I said, with temping you never know for sure what the job is going to be until you show up and sit down at your desk. And thus, if you plan on trying your luck at the "Temp Job Table" it would behoove you to blow on those dice with all your might before rolling them.