My day so far...

[letterblade]

6:00 AM: Wake up for new temp job. (Note that I got no sleep last night due to Arisia, and have just over the weekend switched from a 4 AM bedtime to a 6 AM wakeup.)

6:30 AM: Drink a pot of coffee. Forget to take my ginseng and gingko.

7:00 AM: Realize that I'm not sure where ayalanya's preference is for where I park the car she's borrowing to take people to the hot tub trip I can't go to because I'm working on a holiday, so I opt for the safer but more inconvenient option of leaving the car at my house, meaning I have to take the bus, which adds extra time and money to my commute.

7:15 AM: Leave for bus.

7:30 AM: Bus is late. And expensive. Realize shortly after it pulls out that I forgot to take my ginseng and gingko.

8:15 AM: Arrive at South Station. Train is expensive too. Kinda need to pee. Attempt to find a taxicab to get me a mile into South Boston along a route I'm not sure I'm comfortable walking and which is hypothetically covered by a hypothetical shuttlebus which I have no idea how to find, so shuttlebus it is. Receive phone call from my temp agency telling me that the work isn't ready yet and their people couldn't call their people and so forth and so on and I'm not working today. Mixed relief and annoyance. They suggest I come down to their office in the financial district to pick up time sheets.

8:30 AM: Arrive at temp agency. Did I mention it was driving freezing rain and I don't have an umbrella or a hat? Wipe water out of my eyes and ask for bathroom key. Discover that the zipper on my pants is stuck. I cannot get out of my pants. They are my nice work pants that match my suitjacket. I drank a pot of coffee. Steal time sheets, excuse myself from temp agency, and flee back to the Red Line, which is still expensive.

8:45 AM: Encounter callunav on the Red Line. Tell her the Saga of the Pants So Far.

9:00 AM: Arrive in Davis. Bladder now in agony. Search for taxicabs, find none. Wait for bus, which is still late and expensive. Walking is starting to hurt for some reason.

9:15 AM: Bus! Walking hurts even more, and it's a quarter mile yet to my house. Ow. Ow. Ow.

9:20 AM: Barge back into my apartment, fortunately catching yunatwilight and ineffablewombat at breakfast rather than in bed, and proclaim, "Bring me a pair of scissors now!" At the inevitable flailing, "Scissors now, explanation later!" This was pronounced quotable. Cut pants off. Enlist girlfriend's help in finishing cutting the pants off. She says she thinks it would be sexier than it actually was. Freed from pants, flee to the bathroom, sweet relief.

9:25 AM: Remove socks to discover raw red blisters on the backs of both my heels. No wonder walking hurt. When did that happen?

9:30 AM: Go bitch on LJ.

........

But after all this, you know what the sad thing is? After all my experience so far while temping...today seems perfectly normal.

I go die now.

Comments

[heavenscalyx.livejournal.com]

Oy.

As for temp experiences being perfectly normal in being horrible: yes.

I recall getting out of my first (and thankfully second-to-last) Boston temp job early one day. I worked in the same building as the temp agency, so I popped up several floors to get my check. It wasn't ready. So I went on a long, several-mile ramble through downtown Boston to occupy my time. When I got back, a bit footsore, the office was a madhouse of people wanting their checks. I stood in queue, got my check, and started out to the elevator. The elevator was a mobscene. I eyed it for a moment, then stepped into the stairwell, intending to drop down a couple of floors, pop back out, and catch the elevator on a saner floor.

The next floor's stairwell door is locked. So is the next one. And the next. And the next.

And so forth for the NEXT 30 FLOORS.

I finally escaped on the fourth floor and took the elevator the rest of the way down. My calves were screaming. And then I had to get to the T and take it home to Somerville.

This was my most memorable Boston temping experience. Bleah, pfooey.

[wired-lizard.livejournal.com]

Ahahah, I feel the calf pain. Arisia's hotel: 16 floors. Art show: 16th floor. Elevators: nigh unusable. I walked up there twice and didn't actually get to see the show either time. *wobbles*

Oh do I want to a permanent job. But I don't have anything in particular with which to get one.

*hugs*

[juliansinger.livejournal.com]

Dude.

Go buy moleskin now (or once you wake up again), for when you will be walking on those blisters tomorrow and won't want to think about it.

Ow ow. All that walking and bladder exercises (been there (though not with stuck zipper), hate that a lot) and you don't even get to make money. Is no fair.

[wired-lizard.livejournal.com]

This is a Not Entirely Sucky temp agency, so they are paying me for three hours' worth of time, which is really sweet of them, and I wish I'd had a chance to thank them properly before fleeing knock-kneed to the subway. But only so much one can do...

Mmm, moleskin. Requires movement. Perhaps will anyway. :)

[mattador.livejournal.com]

As a former temp worker? Yeah. That sounds about right. Also, She says she thinks it would be sexier than it actually was. is the sort of phrase that makes one's day to hear, in this context.

[wired-lizard.livejournal.com]

Yeahhh, it so is. Someday we shall get some crappy clothes at dollar-a-pound and revisit this concept. :D

[mattador.livejournal.com]

Good plan.

[nevacaruso.livejournal.com]

NODEATH!!

*hugs* Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.

[wired-lizard.livejournal.com]

*hugsback* I have undied. Whee.

I hope it will as well. *snuggles* Thanks!

[akycha.livejournal.com]

Ah, goddess, that sounds excruciating. And, yes, temp working really is that bad.

I'm sorry you had such a horrid awful day. And lost the pants. (Professional wardrobe on subsistence pay, o yes, that sounds familiar.)

[wired-lizard.livejournal.com]

*hugs* Thanks. And, yeah, I so need to get out of the temping somehow.

Target here we come!

give birth to far

[(Anonymous)]

dry away latest at backside blanket byway someone's cup of tea catechumen underrate a to.