The Caveat Lector
True Tales of Temp Terror
by chris robison
 
 
Last year I was involved in a terrible accident. I graduated from WMU. I have only myself to blame. Through my own carelessness I had accidentally accumulated enough credits to be ceremoniously ejected from campus one sad spring day with degree in Communications. Despite my appeals that I should be allowed to stay on the grounds that I didn`t really learn anything, I was forced to leave my happy world of all night parties, drunken co-eds and being able to cram six months of work into one night fueled by lots of caffeine and the energizing fear of actually achieving a negative GPA. I was sent out into the world armed with only a maxed out credit card, an extensive knowledge of iambic pentameter and a resume that occupied only half a page even when using a 36-point font.
 
In my initial search for employment I tried the traditional method of going through the want ads and sending out hundreds of copies of my resume. After a few months with no success a friend suggested I try a temp agency.
 
For those unfamiliar with temporary staffing agencies, here`s a brief overview. First, there is no job security. Your assignment can be ended at any time for any reason or no reason whatsoever. Whereas you may think of yourself as a valuable employee, your employer sees you as a Tempon. A disposable worker inserted into an office to absorb an excess of work during busy times of the month, to be casually discarded when finished. Secondly, there is the your rate of pay. If you are assigned to a relatively low level task that requires no special training or skills, you can expect about a two dollars above minimum wage. If, however, you are assigned to a job that requires a high degree of skill, training or specialized knowledge, then you can expect about two dollars and fifty cents above minimum wage. Lastly, you have no health benefits or vacation time whatsoever. If you or your child is sick and cannot show up for work, you are not paid.
 
Poverty inducing wages, no health benefits and a job you could be fired from for any reason whatsoever. After reading all that you might be asking yourself why anyone would want to work as a temp. No one does, but since most corporations have discovered the joys of employing a disposable workforce it`s almost impossible to get hired into a company full time without first doing a stint of indentured servitude.
 
Within one week of registering with an agency I was offered an assignment to do data entry for a medical billing company. It was a temp-to-hire position, which meant that if I was still there after ninety days I would become a full time employee with all the benefits and privileges therein. I told them I`d take it. They gave me directions and told me to be there first thing tomorrow morning.
 
I pulled into the parking lot just before eight the next day. The building where I was supposed to start working was a gray windowless concrete cube. It made the architecture of maximum-security prisons look positively whimsical in comparison. I went inside and was greeted by an unnaturally perky woman from Human Resources. After exchanging pleasantries and filling out some paperwork she herded me into the elevator.
 
�You`ll be working with our data entry Department downstairs,� she said with a smile.
 
The elevators doors opened and I saw what could only be described as a clerical version of Hell. On my right were rows and rows of file banks, which stretched so far back that I could actually detect the curvature of the earth. On my left were employees stuffed into cubicles so small that veal would find them confining. There was no carpet on the floor, only bare concrete. There were no ceiling panels, only exposed support beams and pipes.
 
Still in shock I followed the HR woman as she led me to my cubicle. It was about as roomy as the bathroom on an airplane.
 
�You`ll be entering in patient account information,� she said, gesturing toward a stack of papers on my desk about three feet high. �All you need to do is just enter in their name, address and other information into the computer. Simple. I`ll be upstairs if you have any questions.� And with that she was gone.
 
There`s no denying that it was simple work. I think a gorilla sufficiently trained in sign language could have mastered the complexities of the job in under five minutes. That`s not to say that it wasn`t stressful. The first hour flew by. I had developed a good rhythm and was determined to be the best damn data entry employee they had ever seen. The second hour went a little slower. The thrill of typing in name, address and social security number ad nausea had pretty much worn off. By ten o`clock I was not only bored, but my wrists hurt and I was having a terrible time staying awake. At eleven thirty I was so bored and sleepy that I felt as if I had been hooked up to a morphine drip. I literally could not keep my eyes open. I started blacking out for five and ten second intervals. I decided to take an early lunch hoping that maybe some fresh air and food would rejuvenate me.
 
As soon as I left the building I felt better. My head cleared and I felt like my old self again. When I returned from lunch I was determined to dive in and finish the entire stack of work on my desk. Within an hour I was so tired that I had to keeping going into the Men`s restroom to take five-minute catnaps in the stalls. �Diarrhea,� I muttered to a co-worker who eyed my suspiciously as I made my third trip to the bathroom in an hour.
 
By one o`clock not only did my wrists hurt, but my ass started to hurt as well. The chair they had given me was about as comfortable as sitting bare assed on a burlap bag filled with jagged shards of concrete. I ignored it as best I could, but by two o`clock I was sweating profusely and my ass was in such terrible pain that I seriously wondered if permanent nerve damage had occurred. The pain radiated down my legs and up my spine. I was sitting on the very edge of my chair and trying to put as little weight as possible on my posterior. The look on my face was reminiscent of the pained grimace a dog wears while having its temperature taken rectally.
 
�You okay kid?� asked one of my coworkers. �You look like you got a raging case of office ass over there.�
 
Office ass, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a condition that comes about from sitting for long periods of time in uncomfortable or poorly padded chairs. It`s a right of passage that all temps must endure.
 
�I`ll be fine,� I said through gritted teeth. And after awhile my ass did stop hurting, but that just scared me even more. They say that if your hands are frost bitten and are in pain, then the nerve ending are still alive. If you hands are frostbitten and you feel no pain, then the nerve ending are dead and they have to amputate. Terrifying thoughts of going through life with an ill-fitting prosthetic ass strapped to my backside flashed through my mind. I leaped up from my chair and began pacing up and down the aisle spanking myself to get the feeling back.
 
As I said earlier, they can fire you for no reason whatsoever.