A day in the life of a temp

She wakes up slightly later than yesterday when her last assignment ended, slightly earlier than tomorrow, if her commute is shorter than she expected. She gets ready, looks up the address of the assignment, shakes off the first day jitters, and walks out the door.

The commute is longer than any she's faced in the past, nearing 35 minutes before she arrives in the vicinity of the assignment - and realizes she's somewhat lost. Her agency laughs a little at her plight, then leads her in the right direction. Snafu #2, she has the wrong address. Snafu #3, they're all late. The temp entertains the notion of all these snafus adding up to a day off to do all the things she's meant to do in housewifedom.

20 minutes later, after a crude training session on the new 3-day assignment, she settles into a very comfortable chair and a month-old, donated issue of People magazine. She immediately misses the assignment she left yesterday where at least they gave her busy work. There are temp assignments that truly need a person to help, and then there are temp assignments that truly just need someone to fill a chair. She quickly realizes that the next few days are going to consist of filling the need for the latter.

Among the stories of Demi's rumored pregnancy and Britney's new brown extensions, the temp is lucky enough to receive a few monotony-breaking calls. She muses on the greeting styles of the various callers.

Many of them respond to her greeting spiel with a random "Yes..." She wonders what question she asked to be so affirmatively answered. Some with lacking social graces simply state the name of the person with whom they wish to speak, and nothing more. The temp, in a more snarky period in her life, would have responded with a curt "No, this is Tammy Temp*, would you like to speak with...?" Humbled by years and a prevalent need to be professional, she quietly transfers the caller to his intended target. Less often are the callers unfamiliar with the concept of voice mail. When someone is on the phone or away from his desk, the temp is required to disclose that status to the caller, and ask if the caller wants to "leave him/her a voice mail?" Every once in a while, Ned Neanderthal* will rattle off the message as if completely oblivious to the more electronic method of contacting people. The most annoying of the caller quirks is the one where they call and refuse to wait the two seconds involved in allowing her to introduce the company, introduce herself, and offer to help. No, they must interrupt. Give it a second, she thinks. Most amusing, however, are the callers who say "Can I have..." and then name their target. That younger temp would have said "Yes, but his wife might object," but again, she humbly transfers the caller.

After lunch, she returns with a full stomach and a bottle of water and a new forensics thriller from Walgreens, ready to face the next four hours of her assignment. She gleefully notices the new stack of Time magazines that have magically appeared on the lobby's table, which was previously only graced by Golf Enthusiast Weekly. She loves Time magazine! Hopeful to spend the next hour or so brushing up on current events, she dives into the pile. Quickly, she realizes that the covers of the magazines are as faded as the world's interest in the topics therein - the most recent issue is 10 months old. She opens her new book.

Between calls, she muses (she does a lot of musing as a temp) on the employees who ignore her, or worse, look at her as if she's covered in bees. She has to pity those people - she also has to balance those people with those who treat her well and with respect. She notes that the most successful people are usually among the latter group.

She makes it through the rest of the day answering calls and reading her new forensic thriller from Walgreens. Deep down, all she wants to be is a housewife, but this will do for now.

*Names changed to protect the innocent