Confessions of a bitter temp worker

So, just over a week from my last posting, I have something resembling a life again. I have a place to live, in a nice-ish flat. I have flatmates again. I was contemplating living on my own, but I figured I wouldn't meet anyone, and I would die alone one night, and no one would know until the stench of my body brought in the neighbours. Well, that and it's a lot cheaper to flat with other people.

Though I wish people in America wouldn't call them roommates. They're flatmates. Or even housemates. But in my mind a roommate is someone who shares a room with you. So if you're two to a room, then sure, you're roomies. Otherwise, you're kidding yourself.

And I'm working. I'm temping with a major temp company. However, we've been warned off blogging about the job, as they might read our blogs. So I'll just call it The Company, as that's what all the official documents I signed called it.

I'm onto my third job. Two one day quickies, and now into a three week job. The first two were pretty crap. Firstly I worked at a Doctor's office pulling out and putting away years of patient files all day long. I also got to cold call people and remind them of their appointments! Woohoo!

Second day was being a secretary for a large property management firm. I answered phones mostly, and when people asked me questions I couldn't answer (which was always) I'd just fob them off on the wrong person. I had to help with a lot of douchbagish large company stuff as well. Putting address stickers on hundreds of flyers that would be spammed at local businesses. Helping charge people for having too much rubbish and the bag not fitting in the bin. That sort of stuff.

Finally now, I'm working at a business I'd really like to work for, but at a job which mind meltingly tedious. I'm working for a magazine running out of a major University here, and I'm emailing. That's pretty much it. I change the the titles and a few particulars in each email, send them off, and amend data in a huge spreadsheet. I must have sent in excess of 150 emails today. And that's pretty much all I do. Have you ever felt as though your job could be done by a robot? Well, I know mine could be done by a programme. Seriously, if anyone figured out how to use a mail merge properly, my job could be done in 1/4 the time. I'm sticking with it because the last temp flaked out of the position, and I hope to all hell that I can spin it into something good at a cool company.

But, by God, if I don't get to do something that actually requires my brain before long, it's going to liquify and fall out my ears. It is grossly repetitive work. The same emails sent over and over again. I can see how office work drives people to insanity. And as I'm just a lowly temp, no one wants to talk to me either. Not there long enough to bother knowing? Who knows, it's only day one.

I need more business clothes.

My two shirts and two trousers aren't cutting it.

I suppose part of my coming here was to find if there's a job out there that I love. Or more realistically, finding a job that doesn't make me want to commit grievous bodily harm. And I'm still looking.

Peace in, because there's no peace out.
TB