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fearlesstempSubtitled: Further Adventures of Your Fearless Temp
I went to Cape Cod this past weekend, and while I was away my temp agency left two frantic messages on my cell phone. Because I am cruel, I did not return their calls until I got back home, even they were being all nice and complimentary in their franticness, saying things like, "You are our top choice for this position! They asked for our top choice, and we said you!"
(Nevermind the fact that the only reason they'd be frantic would be because the job would be on short notice, which sounds like a situation where the original person assigned backed out. Clearly I am not your first choice! But anyway.)
I listened to their messages and didn't call them back. I felt so powerfully mean, it was kind of scary. Maybe I could be a totalitarian despot after all.
But I had a reason for being mean! As far as my temp agency knows, when I go away, I am unreachable. I like to maintain that myth, that illusion. I like to act like when I go away, maybe I'm going to Paris, or jet-setting to London, out of reach of any phone call, when I'm really probably:(a) sitting in my bedroom feeling lame watching soap operas; (b) on some quick vacation with my parents; or (c) driving three hours to Ithaca to sit in my best friend's living room and watch hours and hours of PBS miniseries or Firefly episodes, obsessively checking my voicemail every half hour.
The power trip completely worked. By the time I called them back they were so relieved to hear from me that they were complimenting me left and right and giving me two dollars more an hour than I've gotten before for such a job. Maybe it's the company raising its rates, maybe it's the temp agency. I like to think it's just how attractive I am as a candidate.
(It's totally not that.)
Anyway, new assignment! I spoke to them yesterday about it and told them I'd start tomorrow. They asked if I could pick up the parking pass today, and I said I could, but that I had a very important appointment in the morning (with sleep), but the afternoon would be fine. I could probably be there by two. They called back and said anytime after two would be fine. Great, I said. Great, they said.
Anytime after two! This is important!
I spent most of this morning sleeping and tooling around on the internet, and then I had to watch All My Children while eating breakfast (popcorn), and then I got a phone call giving me bad news I won't go into here, which of course meant I had to sit around and mope for a bit. I finally got my shit together and got out the door at 3PM, which I thought was fine, because it was after two! And they had said anytime after two!
I was getting off the exit ramp when my cell phone rang. I proceeded to have the following conversation while (a) trying to hide the cell phone so as to avoid being busted by police, (b) trying to steer and shift gears with only one hand, and (c) figure where the hell I was going.
Fearless Temp: Um -- ack! – yes! Hello?
AP: This is Laurel from your Temp Agency. Kathleen at All Irish Law Firm just called and said you missed your 2PM appointment?
FT: What? No! I thought it was anytime after 2!
AP: Yes, well...they thought it was 2PM. They just called looking for you.
FT: But! No! I mean, I'm almost there! I'm hurrying! I'm really sorry, but I thought it was anytime after 2! They said anytime after 2!
AP: The notes here say 2PM.
FT: I'm almost there!
AP: Okay, I'll call them.
This was horrifying. Horrifying! It's true that I am almost always late, but there are exceptions! I am never late for job interviews, first days at jobs, and haircuts. I like to give people the illusion of punctuality, and so I am NEVER late when I'm first meeting someone. Okay, so I am, sometimes, but I am always VERY UPSET and I am NEVER late to the tune of ninety minutes!
I careened through the city streets as fast as I could and found a spot right in front of the building which did not, I was sure to check, have any kind of parking restrictions. I had to spend five minutes crawling around my car because I parked next to a meter, only to realize that the meter still had twenty-five minutes on it when I went to put my quarter in. I ran across the street and started walking down the sidewalk and ended up a couple of feet behind a tall black man who was walking with a limp and the assistance of this big metal cane.
Here's the thing: I tend to overthink, well, everything. I am totally one of those people who offends people by attempting not to offend them: in this situation, I was walking behind him, and I really wanted to run around him to the front door to the building, but it somehow felt rude to me to scoot in front of and around this guy who was limping along. And so I ended up walking slowly a few feet behind him, kind of in his blind spot if we were cars, debating whether I could cut in front of him or not.
I must have been shooting him looks while I was doing this, because he suddenly turned around and said, "What, are you afraid I'm going to attack you or something?"
Awkwardness! Extreme awkwardness! I kind of scooted around him then, and muttered something like, "Ha! No! I'm just – going to go in the building here now, because that's where I'm supposed to be, not because I'm trying to get away from you – really! You can look at this note in my hand with the address on it! You weren't making me nervous! I wasn't being racist, really! I was just being culturally insensitive of your handicap! I mean, disability! I mean, differently abled leg or left side or whatever it is! Or something! I like your cane! Bye!"
Maybe I didn't say all that. I did hate myself, though, for being such a socially awkward dunce, for a good three minutes, or however long it took the elevator to reach the ground floor and pick me up. I stood there and decided that from that point on I was going to stop overthinking things like this, I just needed to treat people kindly the same way I would want to be treated, and should just chill out in general! Relax!
And then the elevator doors opened. I walked forward boldly, with purspose, because I was very late! And very nearly ran over the tiny, snappily-dressed man who was walking out of the elevator towards me. He wore a sharp shirt and tie and came up to my knee and I completely didn't see him at first.
"Oh, uh, sorry! Hi!" I said, scooting aside.
He waved vaguely at me and charged out of the elevator towards the lobby doors. I spent the entire elevator ride working up a nice bout of self-loathing via the following internal dialogue:
Self 1: Oh my God. Did I hurt his feelings? I didn't see him! But that's probably what would really hurt his feelings! Oh God! I'm so awful and mean!
Self 2: Shut up, you freak!
Self 1: Freak isn't a nice word to use, Self 1! Especially considering who – not that I'd ever use it in relation to him, even though he was missing one hand in addition to his, you know. Different size. I wonder how he tied his tie?
Self 2: It probably was a clip on or something.
Self 1: Probably. Should I not be thinking about how he's missing one hand and feeling bad for him because he might not have a real tie, or might have a hard time tying a real tie? Is that, like, disrespecting him through pity, or --
Self 2: STOP thinking about this!
Self 1: Okay.
Self 2: Good.
[Three second pause]
Self 1: I can't believe that guy thought I thought he was going to attack me. It's because I was treating him weird because of his limp, right? Or maybe there was some latent racism in there too. Either option is just --
Self 2: See? SEE? You're doing it again! Stop it!
Self 1: Okay! I won't think about it.
Self 2: Good.
[Three second pause]
Self 1: But – I can't believe I'm late for this stupid appointment. I shouldn't have watched All My--
Self 2: Oh my God, you are so annoying and lame!
Self 1: See? I knew I sucked!
Self 2: You totally suck.
Selves 1 and 2: [Aggressive loathing]
The good thing was that the people at the law firm were actually very nice and understanding, and believed me when I told them that I hadn't been aware it was a set appointment. She said ominous things about giving me more to do if I showed that I could handle it: I am now faced with the task of skillfully underperforming so as not to be assigned too many tasks. I think I'm up to the challenge.
I went to Cape Cod this past weekend, and while I was away my temp agency left two frantic messages on my cell phone. Because I am cruel, I did not return their calls until I got back home, even they were being all nice and complimentary in their franticness, saying things like, "You are our top choice for this position! They asked for our top choice, and we said you!"
(Nevermind the fact that the only reason they'd be frantic would be because the job would be on short notice, which sounds like a situation where the original person assigned backed out. Clearly I am not your first choice! But anyway.)
I listened to their messages and didn't call them back. I felt so powerfully mean, it was kind of scary. Maybe I could be a totalitarian despot after all.
But I had a reason for being mean! As far as my temp agency knows, when I go away, I am unreachable. I like to maintain that myth, that illusion. I like to act like when I go away, maybe I'm going to Paris, or jet-setting to London, out of reach of any phone call, when I'm really probably:(a) sitting in my bedroom feeling lame watching soap operas; (b) on some quick vacation with my parents; or (c) driving three hours to Ithaca to sit in my best friend's living room and watch hours and hours of PBS miniseries or Firefly episodes, obsessively checking my voicemail every half hour.
The power trip completely worked. By the time I called them back they were so relieved to hear from me that they were complimenting me left and right and giving me two dollars more an hour than I've gotten before for such a job. Maybe it's the company raising its rates, maybe it's the temp agency. I like to think it's just how attractive I am as a candidate.
(It's totally not that.)
Anyway, new assignment! I spoke to them yesterday about it and told them I'd start tomorrow. They asked if I could pick up the parking pass today, and I said I could, but that I had a very important appointment in the morning (with sleep), but the afternoon would be fine. I could probably be there by two. They called back and said anytime after two would be fine. Great, I said. Great, they said.
Anytime after two! This is important!
I spent most of this morning sleeping and tooling around on the internet, and then I had to watch All My Children while eating breakfast (popcorn), and then I got a phone call giving me bad news I won't go into here, which of course meant I had to sit around and mope for a bit. I finally got my shit together and got out the door at 3PM, which I thought was fine, because it was after two! And they had said anytime after two!
I was getting off the exit ramp when my cell phone rang. I proceeded to have the following conversation while (a) trying to hide the cell phone so as to avoid being busted by police, (b) trying to steer and shift gears with only one hand, and (c) figure where the hell I was going.
Fearless Temp: Um -- ack! – yes! Hello?
AP: This is Laurel from your Temp Agency. Kathleen at All Irish Law Firm just called and said you missed your 2PM appointment?
FT: What? No! I thought it was anytime after 2!
AP: Yes, well...they thought it was 2PM. They just called looking for you.
FT: But! No! I mean, I'm almost there! I'm hurrying! I'm really sorry, but I thought it was anytime after 2! They said anytime after 2!
AP: The notes here say 2PM.
FT: I'm almost there!
AP: Okay, I'll call them.
This was horrifying. Horrifying! It's true that I am almost always late, but there are exceptions! I am never late for job interviews, first days at jobs, and haircuts. I like to give people the illusion of punctuality, and so I am NEVER late when I'm first meeting someone. Okay, so I am, sometimes, but I am always VERY UPSET and I am NEVER late to the tune of ninety minutes!
I careened through the city streets as fast as I could and found a spot right in front of the building which did not, I was sure to check, have any kind of parking restrictions. I had to spend five minutes crawling around my car because I parked next to a meter, only to realize that the meter still had twenty-five minutes on it when I went to put my quarter in. I ran across the street and started walking down the sidewalk and ended up a couple of feet behind a tall black man who was walking with a limp and the assistance of this big metal cane.
Here's the thing: I tend to overthink, well, everything. I am totally one of those people who offends people by attempting not to offend them: in this situation, I was walking behind him, and I really wanted to run around him to the front door to the building, but it somehow felt rude to me to scoot in front of and around this guy who was limping along. And so I ended up walking slowly a few feet behind him, kind of in his blind spot if we were cars, debating whether I could cut in front of him or not.
I must have been shooting him looks while I was doing this, because he suddenly turned around and said, "What, are you afraid I'm going to attack you or something?"
Awkwardness! Extreme awkwardness! I kind of scooted around him then, and muttered something like, "Ha! No! I'm just – going to go in the building here now, because that's where I'm supposed to be, not because I'm trying to get away from you – really! You can look at this note in my hand with the address on it! You weren't making me nervous! I wasn't being racist, really! I was just being culturally insensitive of your handicap! I mean, disability! I mean, differently abled leg or left side or whatever it is! Or something! I like your cane! Bye!"
Maybe I didn't say all that. I did hate myself, though, for being such a socially awkward dunce, for a good three minutes, or however long it took the elevator to reach the ground floor and pick me up. I stood there and decided that from that point on I was going to stop overthinking things like this, I just needed to treat people kindly the same way I would want to be treated, and should just chill out in general! Relax!
And then the elevator doors opened. I walked forward boldly, with purspose, because I was very late! And very nearly ran over the tiny, snappily-dressed man who was walking out of the elevator towards me. He wore a sharp shirt and tie and came up to my knee and I completely didn't see him at first.
"Oh, uh, sorry! Hi!" I said, scooting aside.
He waved vaguely at me and charged out of the elevator towards the lobby doors. I spent the entire elevator ride working up a nice bout of self-loathing via the following internal dialogue:
Self 1: Oh my God. Did I hurt his feelings? I didn't see him! But that's probably what would really hurt his feelings! Oh God! I'm so awful and mean!
Self 2: Shut up, you freak!
Self 1: Freak isn't a nice word to use, Self 1! Especially considering who – not that I'd ever use it in relation to him, even though he was missing one hand in addition to his, you know. Different size. I wonder how he tied his tie?
Self 2: It probably was a clip on or something.
Self 1: Probably. Should I not be thinking about how he's missing one hand and feeling bad for him because he might not have a real tie, or might have a hard time tying a real tie? Is that, like, disrespecting him through pity, or --
Self 2: STOP thinking about this!
Self 1: Okay.
Self 2: Good.
[Three second pause]
Self 1: I can't believe that guy thought I thought he was going to attack me. It's because I was treating him weird because of his limp, right? Or maybe there was some latent racism in there too. Either option is just --
Self 2: See? SEE? You're doing it again! Stop it!
Self 1: Okay! I won't think about it.
Self 2: Good.
[Three second pause]
Self 1: But – I can't believe I'm late for this stupid appointment. I shouldn't have watched All My--
Self 2: Oh my God, you are so annoying and lame!
Self 1: See? I knew I sucked!
Self 2: You totally suck.
Selves 1 and 2: [Aggressive loathing]
The good thing was that the people at the law firm were actually very nice and understanding, and believed me when I told them that I hadn't been aware it was a set appointment. She said ominous things about giving me more to do if I showed that I could handle it: I am now faced with the task of skillfully underperforming so as not to be assigned too many tasks. I think I'm up to the challenge.
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no subject
Date: 2004-08-26 05:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-28 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-26 06:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-28 11:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-26 07:48 am (UTC)ROFLMAO! I absolutely adore you, Jess. That made me laugh out loud before I've even had caffeine. *g*
no subject
Date: 2004-08-28 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-28 11:15 am (UTC)Self 1: Okay.
Self 2: Good.
[Three second pause]
and
Self 2: See? SEE? You're doing it again! Stop it!
Self 1: Okay! I won't think about it.
Self 2: Good.
[Three second pause]
Self 1: But – I can't believe I'm late for this stupid appointment. I shouldn't have watched All My--
*dies* I have conversations with myself (or selves) like that all. the. time. Sometimes it's aggravating, other times it's fun to watch the selves duke it out. *g*
Hysterical entry, as always. *files another Jess entry into my LJ memories*
no subject
Date: 2004-08-28 11:30 pm (UTC)