Temping

Have you ever had one of those moments where you stop and think, "I officially can't believe that this is my life?" If not, let me share with you what one of those moments might feel like.

It was St Patrick's day. I was under the impression that I wouldn't have to work that day as none of the employment agencies I was registered with had called me the night before. However, I woke up at seven AM to my phone ringing, they had work, I was selling my CD's for money, I had to go. I had to be in the downtown, Quincy Market area by nine.

What I remember of that morning: not enough hot water to fill the bathtub, a good coffee at the local cafe, an Asian gentleman on the T that looked like he was either fourteen or forty (how does that happen?) and a smellier than normal ride from Lechemere to Park Street. As for the smell, it was a toss up. It was certainly emanating from the man in front of me, however, I wasn't sure if he had skipped his weekly shower or eaten an Italian grinder in his recent past. Body odor and Italian grinders smell alarmingly alike causing my brain to channel this message to me, 'mmmm, do you smell that? What is that? Source identified by nose. You are smelling an Italian grinder. Inserting image of Italian grinder. Maybe for lunch you should get a...oh... one minute....sorry to interrupt but we're getting something here from the eyes. Um..what? What's that? I see. Eyes over riding nose. Source of smell has been identified, replace inner head image of Italian grinder to outside image of sweaty man walking by.' Three. Two. One. Gag reflex.

I arrived an hour early. I am obsessed about being early to work and airports. The rest of it is up for debate. I also get lost so often that I figure in an extra hour to get anywhere I've never been before. Although I'd been to the Quincy Market area plenty of times, I had never been to that specific building. It took me twenty minutes to get there. Door to door. So I did what any reasonable human being would do and paced in front of the building for a half an hour in the cold rain while the doorman watched me from inside. He finally came out of the building and asked me if I wanted to wait inside. He seemed a bit perplexed when I said 'Sure, I'd love to come inside. Thank you.' and proceeded to walk past him and into the elevator.

When I stepped into the office there was a man sitting at a desk in the center of an empty room. Seriously. Why in the center? The room was papered in a yellow that I suspect was once white. The man at the desk was probably forty years old, short and balding. He had an inntertube shaped body that is typical of middle aged women. He stared at me. I stared at him. I smiled. He stared at me. I said "Hello". He said nothing. I said "I'm the temp". He stared at me. I put out my hand towards him,
"Deidre Daly".
"Hello Ms. Daly. Bill Weiss. I don't need a temp."
"I'm sorry?"
"I don't need a temp. I didn't CALL for a temp".
"Um, is this the forth floor?"
"Yes."
"Is this the Michael and Michael law office?"
"Yes."
More silence. Inner monologue of panic 'Deidre say something to the man. Don't just stand there. Close your mouth, how long have you had that open? Call the agency. CALL THE AGENCY'.
"Sorry, I'll call the agency and see what is happening".
My representative, Paulie, answered her extension.
"Hi Deidre. How is it going over there?"
"Fine Paulie, thank you, well, except that Mr. Wise.."
"WEISS" says the man in the center of the room who is now back to his papers.
"..Sorry, Weiss, doesn't need a temp."
"Yes he most certainly does".
"Ah....."
"He needs a temp."
"Okaaaay, well he didn't call for one."
"I spoke with him. He can't pull out now!"
O.K., Paulie wanna...calm the hell down?
"Let me talk to Mr. Wise."
"Weiss"
"You said Wise."
"I know, but it's Weiss. Here he is".

I took a couple of steps towards the man in the center of the room and held the phone out towards him. He jumped. He had already forgotten that I was there. Tremendous for the confidence. He slowly reached for the phone and never took his eyes off me as if to say 'I'm watching you, don't try any funny business missy.' I can only hear his end of the conversation which goes something like this,

"Hello."... "Um. No we don't need a temp and I think maybe Tom called you by mistake... WHAT? I should not have to pay for... that is absurd." He brings his voice to a sharp whisper "I have nothing for her to DO!...FINE! She might as well stay if we have to pay her anyways."

He handed the phone back to me. I smiled. He shook his head at me in disappointment.

"Hello?"
"OK Deidre, all set." Paulie had composed herself to her typical neuroticly chipper self. "Remember that you have to get your time card signed before you leave or else we can't pay you. Keep in mind, if you do a good job maybe they'll ask for you to come again tomorrow!"

That seemed like as good a time as any to hang up on her. I figured that she would make 10 dollars per every one of my twelve on top of what she was getting paid hourly and for what? To send me to jobs that never called, to make sure I know better than to wear ripped jeans to my assignments and above else to make sure I know to fill out my time card. She was quite the asset.

Mr. Weiss took me into another room off to the left. This room had the same yellow that used to be white wallpaper, no windows and one desk which faced the wall in the corner. There was no computer on the desk, just a phone. He sat me down and gave me my instructions which were as follows. 'Your job is to answer the phones.' Right. There were three lines and two transfer buttons. He explained that the top transfer button didn't work so if I tried to transfer a call using that button I would hang up on the caller. It seemed so easy. Yet, that top transfer button was plaguing me. I mean, it was the bad button, I knew to stay away, yet I couldn't stop thinking about how much I hated that button.

Within the next three hours four other employees walked in, including Tom, the individual who allegedly called for a temp. Yet he had said nothing to me nor did any of the others. So, there it was. Three lines that rang approximately once every hour, six people including myself, a desk that faced a wall in an empty room with no computer, and a broken transfer line. I answered three calls in my first four hours there. I transferred them all with the ease and confidence of a receptionist that had been answering phones for years. Then, the fourth call came in.

"Hello, Law offices of Michael and Michael how can I help you?"
"Hello. Can I speak with Tom please."
"Sure can I ask whose calling?"
"Yes, this is Mr. Gary Smith".
"Sure Mr. Smith, let me transfer you"
I pushed the top transfer button without even noticing, I then entered Tom's extension.
"Tom?"
No answer.
"Tom?"
No answer.
"Hello? Tom?"
"Who is on line one?" I heard Mr. Weiss call from the other room. I didn't answer him, I had a job to do and that job was to transfer this call to Tom.
"Tom?"
No answer. At this point I had three frantic employees standing over me. I could make out certain statments and questions.
'Who's she trying to transfer? Why does she keep saying 'Tom'? Who is she? I didn't even know she was back here. Where did she come from? Is she a Temp? Did we call for a temp?'
"NO!" answered Mr. Weiss from the other room and added "But we have to pay for one anyways! She doesn't understand phones. Could someone show her how to use the phone?"
My focus was unparalleled. I wasn't hired to just answer three phone lines for this law office, nay, I was also responsible for transferring that call to the appropriate persons. I was a college graduate. This was a temp job. For god sakes I could handle this! I phased them all out and went back to the task at hand.
"Tom?"
No answer
"Tom?"
No answer. Then I saw a finger press down on the hangup button. Dial tone. I looked up, it was Tom.
"Hi Tom, Mr. Smith on line one".
Mr. Weiss was standing next to Tom shaking his head at me in disappointment for the second time that morning. He turned to Tom and instructed him to "please show this temp how to use the phone as she is obviously confused." Tom re-instructed me on the intricacies of a three lined phone system with a broken transfer button. Then he left the room.

I was alone again facing the wall. I stared at the phone and pondered many things like, why hadn't anyone just pulled that damn broken transfer button off the phone, why one's nose runs in the cold when it seems like everything should freeze up, why the smallest state in the US has longest name, why teachers make middle schoolers read the most depressing books (A Day No Pigs Would Die?). Lastly I pondered my life, that moment, how the frig I got to that moment. This statement is what resonated: "I officially can not believe that this is my life."

That my friends is what one of those moments feels like.