She Gives Me Piles

Monday was Day One at my latest serial temp job. I'm given piles of papers. On the papers are numbers. I take the numbers from the papers and put them on a monitor. I can do this half-asleep and completely stoned. In fact, I can't imagine doing this any other way. If I was awake and alert, I'd have to throttle my Child Boss as she explains what the TAB and SHIFT+TAB keys do. Then she shows me how to fold a letter so the address shows in the envelope window. I must have a powerful scowl-on going, because she says," uh, you probably already know that".

She gives me my break schedule. Break schedule? What is this-High School? Sounds about right- I don't think she's even old enough to vote. Hell, she's probably under the local midnight curfew age. I should spank her, but her ass is so much larger than my hand that I doubt she'd even notice.

Child Boss gives me a pile. I give it back a few minutes later.

"Done."

"You can't be done. That was too fast."

She wastes ten minutes checking my work. It's 100% accurate, but I already knew that.

Again a pile. Another check. Same result. I'm not used to having my work checked. Why doesn't she just enter it herself if she's going to spend so much time on it anyway? Why? Because her 10-key skills suck.

I already hate this place.


Day Two: I'm introduced to Lamont. He's new and they want me to train him.
Lamont's just a kid , but he knows how to do data entry. Consider him trained.

It's nice having a guy to bullshit about football and guy stuff with. I ask him what his last job was. He answers in perfect deadpan:

"I was a professional drug-dealer".

"So, how'd that work out for you"?

"I'm sitting right here is how it worked out.How 'bout you"?

" I got busted selling "George W. Bush is a Punk-Ass Chump" t-shirts. They sent me here to do corporate community service instead of going to prison".

We laugh, but it after talking awhile we learn how things really are. Lamont, who is young and black, was subjected to a serious background check and drug screen. I'm white and older, and they just kinda waved me in. ( I couldn't pass either test,if administered, but he did). The words 'fuckin' unfair' come to mind. I was getting ready to tell him not to sweat the job stuff-he was fated to be drafted soon anyway- but he beat me to the punch:

" Pretty soon there's gonna a lot of ( N-words) in Canada".

Day Three (today): Where's Lamont? Nobody here knows anything. I work alone in stoic silence. Until I'm pulled aside by the Child Boss. I'm ushered into her double-wide , semi-private damncube.

"Have a seat". I remain standing; fight or flight, it can't be done from a chair.

"I've reviewed your work. It's excellent". I hear a but.

"But, I've received complaints from some of the staff. You need to limit your work-place conversations to appropriate subjects. You have a negative attitude and it's making your co-workers uncomfortable".

Ow! I feel awful. How thoughtless of me.

"You know, I just remembered that I left my Grandma locked in the trunk of a burning car. I gotta go let her out before the gas tank blows. Here. Sign my time sheet".

Child Boss looks at me like I'm crazy. I am, but I'm still the sanest person in this building.

I leave, never to return. I hope Lamont sues them for discrimination.

I'm sleeping late tomorrow.