Tumble outta bed
And stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
Yawnin, stretchin, try to come to life
Jump in the shower
And the blood starts pumpin
Out on the streets
The traffic starts jumpin
And folks like me on the job from 9 to 5
Originally I had planned to refer to my job as “Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl as told by Herself.” but I realize my current gig doesnt warrant such an awesome title. While the cast of folks I work with on the plantation** are something out of a sitcom, as a temp worker, I know my time here is limited.
As a temp, I have the freedom to work as much as I want, when I want and to a lesser extent, where I want. When real life encroaches on work, I take a day off to attend to business. If another (read:better) opportunity arises, I have flexibility with my hours. The only drawback is that you can be terminated from an assignment at the whim of the job site.
Don’t get it twisted. Temps work their butts off. We are expected to be on time and work hard. Sometimes harder than the permanent employees. The seven other temps I work with are trying to become permanent and don’t mind that much. I don’t mind either, but hate feeling like I have to keep busy for the sake of looking busy.
I enjoy being with other people. I’m no longer isolated or stuck with other stay at home moms who love talking about their kids, their husband, their kids. The cast of characters I work with are a motley crew. One chick, I swear is a paranoid nut. She finds every excuse under the sun to insert herself into every conversation and has been spotted peeking over a shoulder or two while an email is typed. There’s another chick who wants to be the boss but has only risen to have the responsibility of making the lunch schedule. There’s Paul Blart, the security guard. I like him. His relief however makes it his job to piss you off. Then there’s the young folks. When I was working, smartphones were just coming out. The young people manipulate their phones constantly despite company policy that this is a no no. They use email and office supplies with a lack of responsibility, and they try to lump me in with the oldheads. Not that it’s anything wrong with that being an oldhead, but my age is not a liability. I was working when these kids were still in elementary school! I know what I’m doing minus the drama.
Being back to work is a slight challenge. I miss my time blogging, knitting, baking, surfing the net, and the freedom that existed when I had no set schedule. The current assignment I’m working with have the hours from Hell! A true eight hour day with an hour for lunch and two ten minute breaks. No internet access no time to do anything else. Not that i expect to goof off, but some things need to be done during the day. The hour i get for lunch doesn’t always provide me with enough time to take care of business.
I leave the house shortly after the Teen and I get home late. The limited free time makes me rethink my priorities. I guard my time with the kids and the Mister and make sure I make free time count.
With me out the house, it actually manages to stay, gasp, cleaner!*** The cats seem to miss me and make up by ignoring The Mister when he shoos them from the bed. Even the kids seem more settled with me further away. A bonus is that we spend less on take out because I finally got a crockpot to make dinner preparations easier.
Although jobs are hard to come by, I have no desire to make this a permanent gig.
* It actually is pretty easy.
**Sleeping Beauty’s name based on my stories
***Mount Laundry has yet to be conquered.
– Created on the fly by Mrsrkfj
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