(Whackadoodle) Stream of Consciousness

Hi everyone! It’s another post not really anything at all to do with WoW, thank you very much, but this is my blog and I’ll write about whatever the devil I want to write about and you can just deal with it. Or not read it. I’ll understand.

Today was A Day. At the temp hell where I’ve now been for over a month, oh my God, I had no idea I could tolerate that sort of shit for so long and I think it’s a new record for me so there’s that. (Did I mention I am throwing out the rules of grammar or whatever for this post because apparently when I get frazzled I don’t want to think about commas or making my run on sentences run on in the brick walls of aggressive periods and editing? Nor do I care about making sense, as I think that last sentence proves pretty well.)

So there’s the temp job and the complete and utter pointlessness of it all is driving me batshit. And the pointlessness has now come FULL CIRCLE and I am trapped in the middle of that circle and there is no way out just now. Someone please send help. And wine.

My jumbled narrative starts here

About a month ago, Kooky McRacistpants sent me a whole slew of emails. This had the advantage of making my work email address good for something other than boring announcements about how the general fucked-upness of that whole city block will make it so there is no water in the building at 9pm (when who should care about that, really, other than maybe the janitorial staff?). The slew of emails from Kooky were emails she forwarded to me that had all come to her from another office. They all say things like: OH HEY THIS PERSON IS DEAD SO STOP SENDING HIM CHECKS FOR $5.63 EVERY MONTH AND MAYBE SINCE HE DIED BACK IN 2002 WE SHOULD HAVE STOPPED SENDING THEM A WHILE AGO.

And that whole all CAPS thing isn’t me being angry about this email content, oh no. That is how these emails to Kooky arrive from some office full of alleged people in some other state. Anyhow, I got these emails and I had to print them out (sigh) and then copy/paste some information from them (like the person who had died and that he had died AND SO STOP WITH THE CHECK SENDING ALREADY, I MEAN SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE HELL IS A DEAD GUY GOING TO DO WITH ALL THAT MONEY?) into a database program that makes Access look super awesome and efficient (yes) and then write down the number of the issue on the printed email and then take the whole stack of papers ALLLLLLLLL the way down one row of cubicles (so, past three other cubes) and then make three rights and give them all to some guy whose parents gave him a totally pretentious name.

That was all a month ago. I got all those papers back recently (plus some others from… somewhere… I don’t ask questions because I’ve noticed a tendency on the parts of these people to give me nonsensical and often contradictory answers) and I got to tear out the staples and collate them for scanning so that all this information could be retrieved electronically. Which, yay, but also if they start as emails and are saved into a database to boot, I just don’t understand why they cannot just stay emails for their whole lives. I don’t understand why I cannot just copy the information needed into the database and then forward the email again to Pretentiously-Spelled-Name Guy with like a little note that this email corresponds to issue number blah de blah blah.

Then once he was done with the email maybe he could save his comments or whatever in a little text file? And it could be saved somewhere on a server as a whole like electronic folder with the issue number being the name of the folder to allow for easy retrieval? Maybe?

Accountants must hate trees. They’re the reason resto druids can’t have nice things.

But hey, what the hell does a poop flinging temp monkey know? Nothing. (I do not actually throw poop but the idea has its own attractions when Sports Guy 1 who sits on the other side of the wall from me gets to talking to Sports Guy 2 who comes from elsewhere and they start talking about soccer even though they clearly have no fucking idea what the rules of the game are and I deduced this when they were trying to puzzle out the offsides rule and how it related to offsides in hockey (which makes no. fucking. sense. in and of itself). Now, I have no idea about hockey and you won’t catch me talking about it like I do because that is one way in which I am not a Pretentious Twit, but I do know soccer and NO IT IS NOT OFFSIDES IF THE OTHER TEAM PASSES THE BALL AT ALL ON YOUR TEAM’S SIDE OF THE FIELD. SORRY.)

Anyhow. I spent all damn day today scanning the papers and then checking to make sure whichever idiot had entered the data into the database and written down the issue number hadn’t gotten wildly stupid along the way and entered anything incorrectly. And today the idiot might have been me from a month ago! In fact, past me did very well and didn’t cock anything up although at one point I saw something from Kooky that appeared to be throwing me under the bus for an error and a closer read proved that it was that the alleged person from the other office in the other state had sent multiple copies of something and some needed to be processed and some needed to be ignored so what Kooky did was make like 5 copies of all of it and appended three more pages to each copy and those all got processed today, so…. yeah.

I have a really difficult time giving a damn. So far as I can tell, no one else in the whole place really cares about getting anything done, what with the all befuddled conversations about soccer and the McRacist specials and the occasional driveby I get from any one of the dozens of people that see a temp and think: Oh, goody, a place to dump all these onerous tasks I don’t want to do and haven’t done in three to seven years. This will give me more time to be racist and stupid regarding offsides!

And then? Then they fucking patronize me for being so good at scanning papers like it requires anything other than some patience and at least a remnant of a work ethic.

So that’s been the last several weeks of my life and today, something in me just snapped a little. I don’t want to be at a job where I have to dress up in stupid suity type clothes and uncomfortable shoes and then sit at a desk for eight hours with only an occasional trip around the corner to give Pretentious Guy another few stacks of paper. I don’t really want any sort of office job and I don’t care how close I am to being 30, I don’t have the mindset for that sort of so-called professional environment. It just isn’t anywhere in my ambitions and never was.

The thing that is killing me is that I really want a blue collar sort of job. I had one once before and I loved everything about it. My hands were torn up, I sweated like a goddamn pig in the summer when the floor was hot or when I had to work with a particularly lazy co-worker and I am pretty sure I developed some sort of bizarre addiction to paper dust but I loved that job so much that it was like going to play. And those fools fucking paid me for it.

The wall of text doesn’t end so here is an arbitrary header

Yeah, I’m totally whining here about silly problems, but they’re my silly problems and all of this is compounded by the fact that this shitty temp job is all I have right now and otherwise I am just spinning my wheels with the sending of applications to other jobs and damn it, it’s almost June now which means I have been without the sort of solidity I just really fucking like having in my life for nearly six months now. And not only is it a mystery as to when At and I will be able to afford buying a house and getting all of our stuff (which is most of our possessions), it is also a mystery as to what we will do in a month and a half when our temporary lease here is up. Sure, we could just buy a smaller house than what we would like, or we could try to find a cheaper house that is in dire need of a blowtorch and a sledgehammer to make it livable, but you know, it’s pretty hard to want to do either thing when one of us is commuting an hour in one direction and one is commuting 45 minutes the other direction and God only knows how long my commute will last and where I’ll end up next.

The uncertainty is killing me. This is what I am saying. That and the whole open ended crappy temp job thing. I hate it, but we sort of really need the money or else I’ll be reduced to possibly selling one of At’s kidneys on the black market. Or I might have to give up even my cheap wine. Of those two things, it is more likely that At will be waking up in a tub full of ice one of these days and I love him, I do, so I don’t really want to see that happen.

(In parenthetical land where there is a lot less hyperbole, it’s not really as dire as all of that, obviously, or I wouldn’t have a WoW subscription, let alone access to the Internet or this fancy treadmill I am walking on right this very minute. But, y’know,this job could end any day now and we do have to figure out some other place to live by mid-July and I am really not having any sort of luck in getting a more permanent job and I am even applying to the suity desk jobs I so loathe, and let’s not even get into how when we were packing I was all naive and happy and way too fucking optimistic and figured I could live for a few months on a seriously reduced wardrobe and as a result 75% of my clothes and 95% of my warmer weather clothes are still in the Midwest and I am not and it pretty much sucks to try to stretch such a limited wardrobe as far as I have had to and to not feel like I can even splurge more than a very little and get some new things. We are still in parenthetical land where there is very little hyperbole, and I am telling you now that I have nearly cried over these facts and I don’t CARE about clothes and I try really hard not to cry, especially over silly things. So, yeah. Rawr and so forth.)

In which you realize this really was a giant waste of your time

So there you have it. These are the thoughts that have been circling through my demented mind in between all the pretending to be a Real Live Adult and the general eyerolling and what the fuckery that is inspired by the books on tape I am still wading through while at Shitty Temp Job.

No point to this, not at all, not even a little. But between the catharsis that a good written out rant always brings me and the exertion of trying to write and not fall over on the treadmill, I feel better. I feel like I can face tomorrow. Which is excellent because as far as I know I don’t get random days in the middle of the week off with pay.


(Whackadoodle) Stream of Consciousness — 12 Comments

    • Whatever. I don’t care. Knowing how the rule works > an extra ‘s’ that most people include anyhow.

  1. Everyone knows that an offside in soccer is when….err…wtf, who care about boring soccer!

    Also, i now have written proof that you think resto druid deserve nice things too! I always knew you liked me :)

  2. I feel like I should give you a /hug, but as it is awkward and uncomfortable to be /hugged by passing strangers, I will stop with just an awkward and uncomfortable /shoulderpat. Notice I specified “shoulder”, because usually I would just go with a /pat… but you can just never tell with just that precisely where those hands are going.

    On the plus side, as horrible and sucky your awful temp job seems (had one of those; I was also patronizingly lauded for my ability to… recognize what a piece of paper was and sort it into a pile with other like pieces of paper); it makes for extremely amusing reading for ME.

    TL;DR: Sorry your job sucks. I lol’d at your post.

    • Hehe. I am okay with internet hugs and pats as neither actually touches my person. :D

      And I am so, SO glad someone understood that this post was meant to be funny. If I made even one person laugh through all that chaotic rambling, I succeeded in my goal.

      My goal, it is lofty.

  3. Heh – this made me giggle (sorry, clearly I wasn’t laughing at your pain, I was chuckling with recollection at how much I hated my temping days!) and also made me recall how I felt when I turned into a proper grown-up and had, like, actual supervisory responsibility for people. Which always felt odd – hence why I chucked the grown-up work in favour of slacking, ahem, I mean going back to student-hood…

    Anyways, just before I left we got a new temp. Really nice lass called Lexi. Who had a good philosophy degree and spoke fluent Russian. As I have neither a degree nor any ability to speak a foreign language (sometimes I struggle with, like, English, without adding, like, you know, irritating viral words, like, all the way through a sentence…) who had one of those awesome temp jobs of removing staples from piles of documents and then scanning into the document management system. A job that I’d done and clearly you are doing something similar, like I said… awesome… And I could not EVER bring myself to congratulate a Russian speaking philosophy graduate for being clever enough to do that. I used to thank her, sure, but not congratulate her. But others did, and I used to see her try not to twitch…

    TL;DR – feel your pain. Mocking and venting helps and is amusing to read. Stay sane.

    • I am glad you got some chuckles out of it, truly!

      And… poor Lexi. I would twitch, violently, in her shoes. Hell, I twitch in my own shoes and there is no fluent foreign language speaking going on over here either.

      I’ll do my best to stay sane. Holding onto the hope of a better job coming along soon.

  4. Alas, In the words of a greatly admired (or utterly despised) American president “I feel your pain” and no, I did not touch you! I do send virtual hugs and wine to assuage your pain. You accomplished your goal, I laughed loud and hard. I believe we all must experience a truly horrible job for us to completely appreciate a good one. Luckily you are getting your over with early in your life! /raising a glass of wine – here’s to finding the dream job and dream house!

    • o/

      I am happy to have made you laugh! Honestly, the whole thing becomes so much more manageable if only I can also laugh at it. Which I have. Because I’m a dork.

  5. http://www.reyrey.com

    In contrast…I didn’t really enjoy my old shift job. I hated it. I would go to work and all I would hear was crap about so and so’s “baby daddy ain’t payin’ the child support” and all sorts of other nonsense that I cared not to hear. People were late to work, or didn’t show up. They skipped out. I felt like a rocket scientist stuck with people who just didn’t care about their lives.

    I think I might have mentioned before that I do have an office job. But, I love it. Nobody screws around. Nobody wastes time. Our non-work conversations consist of “How are you, how was your weekend, how are your parents, how are your kids? Did little Jimmy lose his tooth? Fantastic! What are you doing this weekend? Have you been to ____?” Quality conversation. Other than that, we get shit done, because if we screwed around, we’d all be fired, our company would croak, from our little part time interns up to our directors. They run around all day long and the only time they sit down is at lunch.

    It probably helps that nobody gets past the recruiting desk unless they pass the math/logic test to prove that they aren’t an idiot, so, we really don’t have any people like the jerks you described. PLEASE at least look through the jobs and maybe consider applying for some? Currently I live in College Station — it’s a great town, fun, enough city to give you your fix but enough country 5 minutes away to keep you relaxed. There’s also Dayton but Texas is more fun. :) You’d be working for a company that actually gives a damn–the jobs are pretty interesting, every location except Houston has a gym, and all three have dining rooms, people are actually intelligent here.

    At least check it out! :) *big hugs* Stop suffering!!!

    • This is possibly the sweetest comment I have ever gotten. I do so appreciate the thought and the link!

      I did, however, just get back out here 6 months ago and this is very much home. Plus, At has an okay job here and just started it, so I know he would not want to look elsewhere and relocate.

      Plus, I am really bad at math. :P

      On the plus side, I did apply for a job that seems like it would be really great for me and have already been contacted by them to come in and do an assessment. The fact that they want me to take an assessment to help determine how I might fit (rather than rely on the typical resume/interview), makes me hopeful that I’ll get in. I don’t interview terribly well, so I adore that they don’t seem to hang everything off of an hour’s questioning.

      Either way, I will only be at this temp job for a few more weeks at the worst!