As with all jobs, some love it, some hate it. For some it’s a stepping-stone to something else; for others, a sort of fueling stop; still others see it as a way of life.
Almost anyone who has ever temped for three months or longer can offer you one or two personal experiences that border on the bizarre. Paul Minx, a Manhattan playwright, has temped on and off for eight years and has mastered more than nine PC software packages, as well as the Wang word processing system. Usually, Minx commands beyond top wages; because of his superior skills and genial personality, he never lacks for an assignment when he wants one. Here are three of his real-life temp experiences, provided for your amusement. Expect the unusual!
DIARY OF A TEMP - by Paul Minx
To Temp or Not To Temp
I was sent out to be a Wang temporary at a well-known wine and champagne importer I was replacing a woman-let's call her Myra-whose desk sat prominently in the center of the Wang area. Myra was the terror of the office, a large woman who though not the office manager, acted like one. She frequently monitored personal phone calls and went through everyone's desk after hours. I was told that the office staff always looked forward to her vacations; taken the second week of June every year I must admit, they seemed very happy to see me.
The only problem was that Myra never actually went anywhere. She sat at home, caught up on her soap operas, and called the office every couple of hours. I felt like my primary job at this company was deflecting Myras calls. I spoke with her over fifteen times in a five-day period. She repeatedly reminded me that I was to touch nothing on or in her desk. I was warned never to open one of her desk drawers; and if I wanted something (even a pen or stationery), I should get it from someone sitting near me. Naturally, this aroused my curiosity. The second day, after an extensive debate with myself, I opted to see what personal treasures Myra was afraid the world would seize if given the opportunity. One entire drawer was filled with wrinkled Kleenex tissues, notes to herself (e.g., “buy Kitty Litter"), and duck sauce handouts from a local Chinese restaurant. The drawer below it contained religious paraphernalia, such as religious pictures, several copies of the New Testament, and old church programs. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. Some desks are best left alone.
Temp Mama
There is a department at a large insurance company that is famous among New York City temps. In this office resides the ''Temp Mama," a woman widely known for the hospitality and good cheer she showers on temps. The service asks those of us who go there to take a cut in pay because working conditions are so out of the ordinary.
When I arrived at my workstation, I found a small bouquet of flowers, with a note attached to it: ''Welcome to your desk." Beside it were a chocolate croissant and an empty coffee cup with a Post-it note stuck inside, which read: "Fill Me Up." Soon I was greeted by Temp Mama herself. This middle-aged woman with prematurely grey hair could have substituted for any Miss America in the smiles department. She asked me if I was happy, if everything was to my satisfaction-and I could truthfully answer yes, even though I had only been there ten minutes. I assumed she was going to review what I was to do that day, but instead she took me on a guided tour of the office. She introduced me to everyone from the mail clerk to the vice-president. Temp Mama showed me the men’s room, even going so far as to take me inside, knocking on a stall door, and inviting me to inspect the facilities. After continuing on to the copier room, the employees' lunchroom, and the supply closet, she took me back to my desk. I still had no idea of what I was to do and was even more curious as to what Temp Mama's daily job entailed. The rest of the day I sat at my desk, answered a few phone calls, and tried to look busy. I later learned that this company is famous for assignments like this, and that must temps said they sat at their desks counting the visits from Temp Mama!
Beware the Practical Joker
There is a brokerage house in the Wall Street area that seems to be the setting for more than a typical number of eccentric temp experiences.
When I was there I met Mr. Myers, a balding vice-president who made my life hell. Mr. Myers enjoyed playing practical jokes, especially on unsuspecting temps. Occasionally (not often), you will run into the permanent employee who thinks you are there to give the natives a few laughs.
The day I was there, Mr. Myers asked me to deliver a very important envelope to a Mrs. Mercedes Taylor. He told me that she was on the twentieth floor and that ''you'd better get hopping. She has a mean temper" We were on the nineteenth floor Myers had told me that the fastest way would be to take the stairs. I dutifully went into the stairwell, and the door slammed shut behind me. I climbed up to the twentieth floor only to find a sign that read ''No Access on This Floor" staring back at me. I banged and banged, but no one came. I went up to twenty-one, twenty-two, and twenty-three, but I kept finding the same sign, I knew this building had over fifty floors, so I started downward. When back on nineteenth I started banging again, but didn’t get any response. I thought that I could hear someone laughing on the other side, though by this time I could have been hallucinating. I started down the stairs and didn't bother stopping until I reached ground level.
I tore open the important envelope, saw that it contained blank paper, and threw it in a trash receptacle. I was traveling light that day and had everything I needed in my suit jacket, so I called my service and headed for the subway. I decided this was one temp assignment I didn't need.
