"...The flos-say, flos-say!" What the hell does that even mean? Flos-say, flos-say? According to Urban Dictionary, the Web site that defines all ghetto speak for my pasty, sheltered Kansas girl ass, says it means showy or flashy, and this is exactly why I titled this blog entry as such - because I now lead the glamorous and flos-say, flo-say life of a temp.
Yes, this week I actually EARNED a paycheck instead of collecting my meager rations from the state like I have for the past six months. Since all companies in this city apparently feel that I'm far too retarded to write, design or edit things for them or complete such complicated tasks as filing shit and answering the phone when it rings, AAAAAND, my unemployment extension hasn't gone through yet, AAAAAND, I was forced to be "that person" who collects all of their loose change and presents it sheepishly and apologetically to the annoyed looking bank teller just so I could afford a football weekend at Kansas State U. with my pals last weekend, I decided it was time to call into effect my back-up, back-up, back-up plan - the temp agency.
The first time I used them was when I was just a wee lass in 2006, meaning I was a complete dumbass and quit my first job out of college without having another job to go to. When my savings ran out after about a month without a job, I went, "oh, shit, I should probably find some way to make an income."
My first assignment was at a large corporation based in Kansas City. I'm sure the planner had good intentions when he/she decided it was a grand idea to create a man made pond on the campus of this corporation, but I'm fairly certain they weren't aware of the number of geese...or the amount of goose shit that would result because of this sexy water feature. In turn, I'm also sure they weren't aware that said geese would become so accustomed to their home away from home, including the people that had to walk around it to go to work, that they would become not only tame enough to just hang out by the building entrances honking incessantly, but also territorial enough to chase employees through the parking lot with a taste for human ass wrapped in a tasty pair of pinstripe dress pants or khakis.
The fact that these geese were prehistorically huge along with my freakish bird neurosis made the possibility of getting my ass chomped on by a goose each morning and evening the most exciting part of my day during my 8 weeks of hard labor at this company since the remaining 7 hours and 50 minutes were spent reading a book or picking my nose in a cubicle on the 8th floor.
I'd often harass the ladies next to me for something to do and I'd end up using my college degree to alphabetize a 4-foot stack of documents or peel and stick 6 million labels to manila folders and then they'd marvel and praise me for a job well done. It's a good thing they were awesome ladies or else dementia might have actually set in extremely prematurely and then I would have never gotten my second newspaper job allowing me to get the hell out of the temp world.
Just when I thought that experience was behind me, I find myself at the temp agency office again. They've offered me three different assignments in less than a week and my willingness to agree to everything has earned me the labels "kick butt" and "easy." Yes, I am an employment whore and I'm damn good at it. When you've felt like you're just a lump of shit taking up precious space in this world for six months and your income is suddenly non-existent, you'll pretty much do anything short of shaking your booby tassels in some old man's face or giving blowies to fat, hairy, buffoon-faced politicians and businessmen in the backseats of Lincoln Town Cars.
This is probably why I spent the last three days testing medical equipment. Picture this: An abandoned doctor's office in a local hospital where they apparently had to evacuate quickly or were just too lazy to take care of some basic housekeeping items such as disposing of used syringes and needles, trash, used latex gloves and mousetraps stuffed full of temps on laptops computers repetitively pushing buttons on 100s of I.V. pumps, *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*, FOR 20 HOURS. That's two and a half work days and once again, if it weren't for colorful co-workers, my brain would have completely oozed out of my ears from non-use instead of just halfway.
Discussions included children - number, gender, ages, etc. - since the majority of the people there had them, married or not, whether they actually liked their significant others or not and whether they were above the legal drinking age or not - as well as a drawn out conversation about people and their zodiac signs. I learned that Scorpios are apparently scary bitches, Geminis are the best people ever and if you're a Taurus, people will hiss at you, look away and form their two pointer fingers into a cross while sticking it in your face. Useful information for future reference, I do believe.
Today, I'm sitting at the front desk of a trade college basically just hanging out and answering everybody's questions with "I don't know," then calling somebody who does know to come up front and help these poor people.
My next adventure? Who knows, thus is the beauty of this glamorous lifestyle. The one thing I'm worried about is my unexposed immune system. I figured out that with any luck, unemployment would hopefully keep me healthy this winter since some days the only other living things I come in contact with are my dog and my herb garden. But, now I've spent the last three days in the close quarters of a filthy ex-doctor's office inside a hospital that has at least two quarantined floors full of flu patients and today in a school where there have been two confirmed cases of H1N1. While temporary employment will allow me to pay my rent, it will also force me to take a daily dip in bleach water. Damn swine flu.