On The Outside Looking In

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Squirrel looking in,
originally uploaded by Mema13.

Akin to my little friend here, I have spent most of my current waking hours trying to fit in. I see the forest for the trees, the greener grass in my neighbor's yard, and I'm so apart from it that it is making me increasingly depressed. I'm even getting that weird feeling you get when you don't belong. That odd-man-out feeling. That new-kid-in-the-cafeteria feeling. The smallest opportunity that I am given to speak, say, when someone asks me a question, I begin the downward spiral of offering WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION. I even provide my very own thesis and dissertation before, as Shakespeare would say, "Thou didst request it." Ugh!
So while I'm offering up those little nuggets of conversation that people are tripping over, I find that I am even annoying myself. It's time to gather up those treasures of Wisdom and shove 'em back in my mouth the minute they accidentally fall out. That way, I can save myself ten miles of misery. I also have to stop myself from staring awkwardly at those around me in an attempt to transfer brain signals. No one wants to Vulcan mind-meld anymore. It's time for me to store those and stop giving the appearance that I'm some lame-ass chick who talks to her herself for fear of sharing any thoughts with my human counterparts. I can't begin to tell you how much I'm starting to scare myself!
Could I be so darn insecure or am I just bored? Well, it's true that I've been understimulated these past few weeks. I have already shared (ad nauseum) the unique and mundane aspects behind The Life of a Temp. There's nothing worse than sitting for hours daydreaming about public speaking engagements with Powerpoint presentations in filled-to-capacity Training Rooms; imaginary young temps eager to hear me share droplets of Experience. Must be the megalomaniac in me. Instead, this is what I get:
Older Executive turns to subordinate who's training me on my job duties and says, "Can you please get her to copy these and start coding the mail that we got yesterday?" Like I'm not even there. Ugh-Ugh! Scenarios like the following are also not uncommon:
"Can you…what was your name again?"
"Mema."
"Whatever. Listen, can you photocopy these and can you," turning again to subordinate, "show her where the photocopy room is?"
"I know where it is."
Incredulously, "You do?"
"Yes. Isn't it the room I pass every morning to get into the office?"
Clearing throat, "Uh, yes. Yes it is. Good!"
Then in full sweeping motion like a war general, complete with crest and banners flying, The Exec pivots and heads back to his office. He quietly locks the door behind him in secret fear of me. If I know where the copy room is on my second day there, who knows what else I may know? I may even threaten his job! So, like a true opponent, I brandish my colors with pride and honor. If I'm going to be labeled a traitor, then I'll go down in a blaze of glory. Glory, Halleluyah! Defiant to the last just like in kindergarten. The only saving grace is that he can't order me to do pushups or punish me with a timeout. Woo Hoo! I mean, Halleluyah, children. Halleluyah!

So How Was Your Day At The Office?

Tomorrow will be my official last day at my temporarily assigned position, but fear not kiddies because I've got oooh! "OFFICE GOSSIP". And since I have no loyalty to these poor schmoes anymore, I figure I'd share an experience that is commonplace for any office temp. Trust me, if it's one thing I'm good at, it's observation. So join me as I begin to unravel all of the nuances of being a temp, what that means for you (referred to endearingly as: The Poor Slob — trust me, it could be worse), and how to avoid the obvious pitfalls of your status. Let's see, where do I begin? At the beginning. (Pardon the pun)

1. You Want Me To Do What?! - Some offices understand that it's your first day on assignment and try to gradually show you the ropes. Others want not only to show you, but blow a whistle to force you to climb it as far as you can in the shortest amount possible. My best advice is: Know Your Limits. Sure you could fax, copy, collate, color-code, alphabetize and sort. But do you also have to manage and formulate a project plan? No and…NO!
2. I'm Not Retarded, I Just Act That Way - Okay, so you are getting paid a heck of a lot more than minimum wage. That doesn't mean that you have to learn the company's dealings overnight. So you flub some simple tasks and cut corners…so what? You never give any employer your best work EVER because most of the time, they won't notice anyway. Just do what you can. You're only there on a temporary assignment which usually means that you're the peon picking up the slack on someone else's permanent job. Get the picture?
3. I Was Voted "Most Likely to Succeed" In My High School Yearbook! - Don't take it too personally if people treat you like the hired help, because basically, you are. So you can multi-task. Good for you! It doesn't give you permission to run things.
4. Observe, Grasshopper, The Delicate Balance of Life - Do your job efficiently (but not too quickly or too slowly). Smile but don't be overly friendly. Take yourself seriously, but don't neglect your personality. Be aware but not nosy. Remember that this job could be a stepping stone towards future offers. No one wants a wet dishmop to work with. Don't be as unapproachable as Sly Stallone in Cobra ("DTA, man, DTA…Don't Trust Anybody"). Just be friendly and courteous. Just imagine how you behave when hanging out with your friends and DO THE OPPOSITE OF THAT.
5. Sir, Step Away From The Calculator - Stop seeing the means to an end. Does one have to work to live? Sure! But you should love what you do, not just while away the hours staring at the clock on the "Start" toolbar. If you're too busy "calculating" how many hours it takes to pay the electric bill, then you're temping for the wrong reason.
6. Watson, I Think I've Got It! - Try to (*gasp*) learn something while you're temping. Whether it's getting some instruction and guidance from a co-worker or doing a little self-teaching to acquire some new skills, each lesson broadens your skillset. This will be important to market yourself when you go onto your next job.
7. I Don't Work At "The Gap", So Why Sell Myself Short? - If your agency treats you solely as a commodity and seems less than interested in your overall happiness in a position, it is crucial to point out the obvious. Multiple phone calls to complain in a cool, calm manner will do wonders. It may give your agency the head's up it needs to review their client. It also may be the head's up you need to review your agency. See how cyclical that is? What goes around really does come around…
8. Don't Worry, Be Happy - Ultimately, only you can give an accurate assessment of a company from how you feel. Do you go home after work only to complain to high heaven about Homer Simpson in Sector 7G? Well, maybe the nuclear plant isn't a good fit. Remember that your agency are not the ones being asked to spend 8 hours a day working for Mr. Burns…it's YOU. "Supplicants, indeed."

Those are just a few of the tips I learned while on the job. Temp if you will, temp if you must, but don't ever forget: It's Success or Bust!

The World According To Me - Part I

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Left Side Profile,
originally uploaded by Mema13.

The bloggiverse has had a long wait. Ok. I'm sorry. A lot's been rattling around in this brain and like the true nerd I am, I sit on my thoughts for a few days, scribbling in my journal (or whatever's available) and take extensive notes. Like I said, I'm a nerd that way. I have a bunch of stuff to tell you, so lemme get started.
I've been living a shameful existence. One that I'm content to lead because it involves heavy meditation and contemplation and every "-ation" in the entire nation. Get it? I know. I'm tired. But here's the skinny:
The temp assignment (where my questionable supervisor / Mgr / Boss was fired) is now over. Thank goodness. Let's give a healthy, almighty, "Hooray" and exchange knowing glances. Everyone knew that this wouldn't last. Seems that jobs these days are more confusing than ever. If you're lucky, you work for heavenly Bosses who understand the concept behind Happy Workers, Happy Work. If you're not so lucky (most of the known populace fall within this category) then you only have to suffer as long as you're willing to. Some see it as okay to hate their job. They can miraculously separate the ugliness from the rest of their lives. I am not of this ilk. I wish I could just clock my regular 9 to 5 shift without so much as an eye-flutter. I am one of the ones that wants to make a difference which usually means that I suffer prolonged agony if the work seems unfulfilling or unrewarding. I take work home with me because, hell, I CARE. I really do. I've tried to be the other way, believe me. It just doesn't work out.
2) I've started a new temp job at yet another unsatisfyingly dull position. I don't anticipate staying long. Then again, I have to think realistically (something which I hate doing) and bow down to the Almighty Credit Card bill. Ugh. It's force is apparently mightier than I. The sucky part is that it is so dang convenient these days to whip out the card instead of the cash. Suze Orman (financial guru) would have my hide for this. And nobody wants to disappoint good ole Suze. So, I'm mending my ways, albeit begrudgingly.
Finally, a little bad news from the home front which involves my sick Grandmother. Just keep her in your prayers before you lay down to sleep. I plan on visiting her real soon and hope to give more details in a later post. It's late and I really should get to bed. I didn't call this Part I for nothin'!

Who Dwopped The Wittle Baby on His Head-ey?

Dear Britney Spears,

 Congratulations, Britney on dropping your baby!  You have managed to endanger your child's life for the second time in a row (not a small feat).  Hold onto your hat because what I am about to offer you will BLOW YOU AWAY!  Now that you have officially been reported to the authorities, wouldn't you love to have a keepsake that could mark this special occasion for you and your child, Sean Preston?  This is not just some random letter from Child Protective Services or a useless internet song from your husband, K-Fed. This is an opportunity to record this moment for a lifetime.  But just in case you aren't convinced, here's a testimonial from others just like you:

Courtney Love: "I dealt with Kurt's death by throwing myself on a lawn for a photo-op.  Little did I know that that vigil could've gone unnoticed, overlooked and forgotten forever!  It was hard, y'know selling Kurt's music.  It was also hard having to deal with the court over my own daughter, Francis Bean.  I'm a good fucking mom.  I am.  So this was the best way to prove it to the judge and Dave Grohl and everybody that I care for my kid!"

Michael Jackson: "Before all of those ignorant people had said all of those horrible things about me and Blanket, I decided that I needed to do something.  After I received this in the mail, Little Prince loved it and told me so from behind his mask.  I love my chil'run so much!"

Yes, for a small fee, you could go ahead join the ranks of poor parenting!  Britney, you may be wondering what gift could contain such a wonderfully precious moment?  Well, look no further!  Allow us to send you this lovely, finely painted cardboard cigar box.  But wait!  Your luck does not stop there.  Because the cigar box is not filled with cigars.  No.  But before you decide, Britney, know that your baby will not have anything more sophisticated.  No rhinestone-covered teething ring can compare to the classy, sleek bottle of Jack Daniels waiting inside! What could something like this cost, you may ask?  Relax.  You can afford it, Britney, even with the sliding sales of your husband's CD.  Please tear off the bottom of this message and send a check for $200,000 to: "JD in A Case" c/o The Mema13 Fund.  Remember, the box can be personalized and can come in two colors: pink and blue, of course!

Don't let the chance of a lifetime pass you by.  Please, just send it as soon as possible because…c'mon!  (I could use the cash!)

“April Snows Bring May Ho’s”

Killing Ozone,
originally uploaded by Mema13.

Yes, my sister came up with this wonderful little gem of comedic genius. Only, she said she’d heard it somewhere. But I like to call her a comedic genius because…well, El. Now she can officially hang signs in her cubicle that read, “Comedic Genius At Work”. I rather like that concept.

No, Brad Pitt is NOT a genius:

What exactly consitutes a genius? So many people fling that word around that I’ve lost all sense of what the true meaning is. If you do something great that is a fluke can you still be called a genius? I mean does genius-ness have some sort of timetable? Maybe genius expires like milk products. Wouldn’t that suck? If you were the genius yesterday and then all of a sudden you just stopped being a genius, stripped of all your genius-duties like…well…thinking and pondering. Isn’t that what geniuses do? Or maybe geniuses are just regular people with no job and a lot of time on their hands. I mean, actors love to pat each other on the back and call each other geniuses all the time. But are they really? I mean, I can’t act or anything but I hardly think that just because someone can do something that you can’t doesn’t make them a genius. It just makes them skilled at something that you’re not skilled at. Perhaps if you go and practice a whole bunch and your Dad’s an actor or a salesman, then perhaps you’re more pre-disposed to acting. Or if your mom was a teacher who taught you the skills you needed for acting or singing or performing to come naturally. How can you then be called a genius? I thought geniuses were beyond smart. I thought geniuses had high IQ’s and smoked pipes with dressing robes. No, wait. That’s Hugh Hefner.

Have We Learned Nothing from Doomsday movies?

What the heck is wrong with the world? I was shocked, surprised, awed and confused by the mysterious snow which fell from our sky…in April. I’ll admit that I hadn’t heard the weather report, but what in the heck was that all about anyway? So my latest fears have turned to things that I can’t control. Namely: post-9/11 laziness, global warming, and menstrual cramps. But not in that order. Or maybe…yeah. EXACTLY in that order. Huh.
Fire Drill:

OK, so the other day there was a fire drill at work. Prior to 9/11, this was an occurrence which wouldn’t cause an employee to even bat an eyelash. Since 9/11, it is hard not to stir a reminiscent twinge or out-and-out worry. But why doesn’t everyone bolt? Why are there still fools out there in the world that will second-guess the drill? Hello?! It went like this:

1. Alarm goes off.
2. Idiots walk to the elevators.
3. Others remind The Idiots that they can’t use the elevators in an Emergency.
4. Some try to crack jokes like, “Save the Coffee!” to, I guess, worry me more.
5. The Jerks begin to ask, “Oh, is this a drill? Does anyone know if this is a drill?”
6. The Losers start to slow up their pace. I think: If this is a real emergency, I’m toast.
7. Some of The Losers are wearing real inappropriate gear like high-heeled shoes. I think: If this were a real emergency, they should really take those off and bail.
   There’s a retarted company policy that asks the employees to go down only 5 flights of stairs and someone’s supposed to meet you there to give you the next set of instructions. I think: Are they kidding?
8. Seeing that no one is there to give us further instruction, every smart employee makes a mad dash for the next flight of stairs. The Idiots, Jerks and Losers are still deciding what to do. I think: I’d mow them down and use their bodies as my personal sled to get me to the bottom faster.
9. We go down to the 11th Floor from the 19th before the “false alarm” loudspeaker announcement. I think: Thanks a lot, Building Fire Warden…for NOTHING.

Then it’s a slow ascent. I guess people really don’t value their lives. Maybe they didn’t experience 9/11 but only saw it on tv. Maybe their just Idiots, Jerks and Losers. Yeah, that’s it.

Global Warming Doesn’t Mean Grab The Suntan:

If you were Homer Simpson you’d probably say something like, “Woo Hoo! Global Warming! Marge, break out the sunglasses and flip-flops!” But you already know that The Simpsons is just a satirical cartoon, right? Right?! Yeah. I’m worried about our ozone layer that’s…well…diminishing with every farting cow. *burp* We also can thank The 80s for sparking the “big hair” trend that probably didn’t help. Ah, Aquanet: Killing our ozone for decades. That should be their marketing angle for the 21st century. But, I digress…yet again.  But seriously, aren’t there things that we can do to help Mother Earth besides killing off cows and telling ladies with bouffant hairdo’s to watch it with the hairspray?  Well, I guess it helps to condition ourselves accordingly.  The easiest way to start is by using less of what we think we need.  Stop wasting gas.  Use the backside of used sheets of paper.  Don’t buy new, buy used.  Then, over time, we can graduate to the wonderful world of RECYCLING.  I can’t believe people still refuse to recycle their garbage, even though some communities are punishing the guilty with heavy fines.  And no, those blue bins in the office aren’t just for show.  Please separate your paper from your plastics, your glass from your cardboard.  The result may not be as dramatic, but every little bit helps.  So we may not be able to prevent the next cataclysmic event.  Maybe we can start small and work our way up or leave that problem solving to the geniuses.

Last But Not Least:

Lord, I know I’m a woman and all, but why must I suffer the horror that is menstruation?  Why do all of the most horrific words begin with the word: men?  Menopause?  Menningitis? Mental Retardation?  Why couldn’t Eve just have forgotten all about that fruit?  Why’d she have to be such a dumbass?  Why does this monthly game always involve me having cravings for chocolate?  Why must I be in such a pissy mood? If you cut me, do I not bleed?  Why then must I bleed for 3 days to a week every month?  Are irregular periods just some sick joke of Yours?  Well, let me in on it then.  I’m in a perfect state-of-mind to rip someone’s head off.  Might as well be You.  Amen.

Why Do I Love Crap? Let me Count the Ways…

I love thee for the ability to entertain my senses. I was just mulling over a sound on FMU radio station and realized that I love…crap. The crappier, the better. I actually listened as they played the THX sound over and over. For anyone who knows, it's like the Memorex sound that comes on DVD's announcing Digital Surround Sound capability, but I actually listened to it. And the radio DJs actually listened to it, because they played it. Then, in a crap-tacular event, I was flipping channels and stopped on a UFO sighting video marathon on one of those Discovery Channel stations which speculated and showed crappy footage that I've seen a million and one times, and yet…I couldn't tear myself away. I actually stayed tuned in. Why do I love crap so much?? Huh??

An Old Office Favorite: The Blabbermouth

Get A Little Closer…,
originally uploaded by Mema13.

You've probably met this type before. Perhaps like the Sasquatch, you've even come across them in your woodland travels from desk to cubicle. The Blabbermouth, much like the office hummer, can be easily identified with the following list of telltale signs:

Incessant Phone Usage - The Blabbermouth overindulges on the company phone because, hey, he/she isn't footing the bill. One can overhear the Blabbermouth's entire life experience and social history just from their use of this medium. What's the point in living life if no one else is listening to your personal experiences firsthand?
Crazy Loud Laughter - The Blabbermouth loves to do things BIG. BIG and GREEDY. So why not top boisterous chatter with equally boisterous laughter? It's the gift that keeps on giving…
Sharp Outcries - Y'know that audio message preceeding a movie that says, "Talking may be annoying to the people around you…Please be considerate–DON'T TALK!" The Blabbermouth has obviously never paid attention to this message. The outcries may be gleeful as in, "Oh! My! Gosh, Becky! You're getting married?? Eek!" to outcries of annoyance, "DAMN!" or the outcry of incredulity, "She said what about your hair?!" Either way, the outcry never really matches any real sentiment. It is all for show.
Occasional Lowering of the Voice - In moments of true crisis one must always be aware and self-conscious that, no matter how many curse words were blurted out randomly and inappropriately before, decorum at work must be kept at all times. This is when the muffled voice is key. Forget the sharp outcry from a moment ago. Some things must be kept secret. And if you believe that, The Blabbermouth has a bridge they'd like to sell you.
Talking So Fast It'll Make Your Head Spin - HowmuchcanIsayinrun-onsentencesoastobeabletogeteverythingIhavetosayineventhoughwhatTheBlabbermouthhastosayisawholelotofnothing? Right.
Feigning A Feeling - It is the job of The Blabbermouth to have a listening audience within audible distance. Therefore, pretend shock and awe (when not really shocked or awed) is a vital part of the game. Most phrases will begin: "Oh my God, really?!…" and end in: "I can't believe that he said that to his wife!" Of course, in Jersey City, the ending is liable to be more jaded: "…and that's why he was arrested??" The Blabbermouth is also prone to use facial expressions mimicking actual human feelings. Beware! Do not fall victim to this scheme! It is only a cry for attention and just the excuse The Blabbermouth needs to…well…blab.
If you spot a Blabbermouth in the workplace, please contact the authorities. If the offender is apprehended, you can get the satisfaction that a horrible cliche has been taken off the streets. That is all.

What’s A Nice Girl Like Me Doing In A Place Like This?

Alone In Chicago_Sepia,
originally uploaded by Mema13.

Picture this: a cubeless arrangement of side-by-side desks flat as an open plain. Only there isn't any scenery to immerse myself in. There's just mounds of work and a wasteland of dull-eyed worker-monkeys pushing paper. I'd kinda hoped to make the best of things. But, no one talks to me and it is very noticeable that I am being grossly ignored. Un-blessed ennui and a pile which I putter through as the hours drag on. I try my very best to be sociable. I really, really do. But I guess senses of humor are hard to come by at least in such automaton locations. I miss my old Boss and my co-workers. I'm afraid that I'll never meet such a kind, professional bunch again. And hello…I've paid my dues. Why in the heck do I have to keep on paying?!

American Idle:
So what I understand is that going back to temping is kind of like having talons stuck in your side. You're treated as though you're not human and as if you don't have any feelings. Some people talk down to you as though you can't understand English. I knew this going in, so I have found ways to amuse myself. When the Boss isn't looking, I check my emails. I send notes to some old buddies and maintain a few contacts. I take a gazillion breaks and since there really is no place to go (except around in a circle) I have invented a creative game. My first break consists of either a trip to the cafeteria for water, tea, or a snack. I take the long way down a long, endless corridor that kills about 10-15 minutes if I walk really, really slow. My second break is usually after a rather tedious stretch of time where I do entries in a system that is riddled with duplicate invoices and errors. Since I am a temp I am not supposed to care, but somehow I do. I have already tried (in vain) holding mediocre conversations with various people but that doesn't seem to work since the people who I'm addressing appear to have never graduated high school. A conversation can easily go like this:

Me - Wow, it's so cold out.
Them - Yeah.
Me - I hear that it won't go higher than 30 degrees today.
Them - Umm Hmm.
Me (after an uncomfortable silence) So…did you hear about the Isaac Hayes controversy?
Them - The what?
Me - Y'know…on South Park?
Them - I don't watch South Park OR What's that?
Me - A cartoon on Comedy Central?
Them - Oh. I never watched that.
Me (switching to current events) - What a horrible thing…Dana Reeve's death, huh?
Them - Who?
Me - Nevermind.
Them - What?
Me - Nothing.
Them (giving me a weird look).
Conversation over.

My second break is usually to go to the bathroom. By now I have to go, having had that tea on my first break. Again, I take the long way there; smiling at passersby who appear to be confused by my high spirits. I guess "gloom-and-doom" face works better. Today though, I had the pleasure of overhearing a quote which was almost like an inside joke/gift to myself. The quote: "I be trying to act smart." Now you have been let in on the joke. Endless laughs forever…ok maybe not forever, but at least a good long while.

Condescending Down A Spiral Staircase:
So last week, I actually received a mini-conversation from my direct Supervisor (who is my Boss but hasn't yet earned the right to be titled such). You know why I have such an underlying disgust for this creature? Because he's condescending. Very. It reminds me of an old Dilbert cartoon where Dilbert's Boss says, "Come over here and let me pat your head in a condescending way…" I always laughed at that one, except is isn't so funny when one is actually living it. The man hasn't said two words to me for over two weeks and yet decided to engage me in conversation that didn't even deal with anything I'd learned or how I was doing. Nope. But first, let me give you a little background: the "Boss" is new. He loves to mention it to anyone within earshot. It usually comes in the form of phrases like, "I'm new" or "I've only been here a few months" or "I haven't been here very long". In other words, he's the new guy and that buys him a few more months of not having to learn anything. In addition to not knowing anything about his function, this guy goes on and on about, "THE BIG PICTURE!" No, really. I think he even used the words: "big picture". Because this guy is the worst of all–this guy is THE CONDESCENDING IDIOT.

Quickly, to the Batmobile, Robin!
What is a condescending idiot, you may ask? Well, at every job you'll have at least one. The person who thinks that whatever he/she's doing is way below him/her. There are "grander scale" issues and "larger tasks" at hand, like the character of Robin in the Batman comic book series. He's the guy that is really just Batman's sidekick, but still envies The Caped Crusader. That's right. Poor Robin would much rather achieve some kind of greatness by kicking
(*POW!*) Batman out of the way and (*WHAM!*) stepping over his bloody corpse to become the defender of Gotham City. The rude condescension is just the icing on the cake. Just like The Joker, my "Boss" talks at me and not to me. He has a tendency to assume that I'm an idiot and speaks in small, annoying sentences as if he's teaching a child. Worse, I think he believes that he is the greatest, fairest guy in all the land. But, he's not. He's just rude and clown-like.
*Cue Big Top Ringling Bros Circus music here*

But it could've been worse. He could have been more like a diabolical con on the mission to take over the world a la Lex Luther. I guess I lucked out, after all.