It seems that every temp I meet these days is on their first assignment.  That's cute.  They've never done this before, don't know what to expect, really, and it always occurs to me that I should impart some of my hard-earned wisdom to them.  Then it occurs to me that I have no hard-earned wisdom.  Then it occurs to me that I don't even have any lazily-earned wisdom.  Then it occurs to me that they are much better looking than I am, and I begin plotting their demise.

Any-hoo, I've assembled a little blather of info that every temp should know before he or she starts their first day of temporary employment.  If only they gave out this information up front.

First, a word about your temp agent, the person who will find you temporary positions at crappy companies. The basic principle you need to understand about your agent is this: your agent hates you. This simple fact will come to answer many of the questions you will soon have, such as:

1) Why did my agent only give me ten minutes notice about my new assignment?

2) Why didn't my agent inform me that I would need specific skills at my new assignment, such as the ability to operate a local area network or a forklift?

3) Why did my agent kick me extremely hard in the groin area?

See, it all makes sense now.

Even with few or no details, you know a lot about the job you will be doing. Namely, that it sucks. Let me say that again, because it is somewhat important. Your job sucks.

How do you know this, even before you enter the workplace? Well, if the job was great, someone else would be doing it, wouldn't they? Oh, sure, your agent said someone was out sick for the day, but you know they are just home watching TV, completely healthy. They just hate their job. Sure, the receptionist is on maternity leave. Well, why did she get pregnant in the first place? Hmmm? Because she wanted a child? Come on, people, even an idiot can see through this simple ruse. Her job sucks so much that she'd rather produce smelly, shrieking offspring than show up for work. First thing to remember: if it was a good job, the person you are replacing wouldn't leave in the first place. You should intuitively know this about any position you have been called to fill.

Note: If your agent describes the office or business as "high-energy," you know its really going to suck.

LOCATION

Directions have undoubtedly been given to you by your agent, who makes bets with fellow agents about who can get their temps the most lost. When they call you in the morning, they will speak incredibly quickly, never repeat their directions the same way twice, and often give you helpful descriptions such as: "It's in a tall building downtown."

Note: If they use the term "business park" hang up and go back to sleep.

Unless you enjoy sitting around in a dark lobby at dawn with a receptionist who was born in the mid-eighteenth century, I would suggest taking your time in the morning. Arrive one to two hours late. If you show up right when people are arriving to work, they will not have time to drink coffee and play computer solitaire, instead having to show you where the food-caked company microwave is and explain the quirks of the toilet in the men's room. They will resent this intrusion into their morning rituals and will make you share a cubicle with a guy who has chronic gas.

You will have the name of your contact person, also given to you by your agent, which means the name will be wrong. The person you ask for will not be there, will be out sick, or most likely, not even exist in the company at all. I suggest asking for "Todd," because every company has at least one and he's more than likely the jerk will have to share an office or desk with anyway. He may or may not have gas.

You will be introduced to roughly six hundred thousand million people, all who look alike and have similar sounding names. "This is Melody, Melanine, Melinda, Melissa, Marlena, Myrlene, Madeline, and Todd.

DESK

You will be shown to a desk. They may even say, "This is your desk!" But make no mistake: This is not your desk. I cannot stress this fact enough, mostly because I named my friggin' website after it.

Don't look at the yellowed Born Loser comic strips tacked to the wall, don't read the fortune-cookie fortunes taped to the computer monitor, don't drink from the mug that has INSTANT HUMAN:  Just add coffee!!! stenciled on the side and whatever you do, don't look at the Anne Geddes cards of infants dressed like eggplants. 

It will be difficult, believe me, I know. But you must resist or you may suddenly feel that you deserve your own desk, one you can decorate with pictures of your family or your pets or your pet's family. Your own desk where you can tack up a letter your nephew was forced to write, thanking you for the reindeer sweater you sent him for Christmas, or attach the magnetic statue of David you can dress up in different magnetic outfits, or display Todd the accountant's latest wacky e-mail joke of the day (he's so funny!).

A desk where you can change the computer screensaver to say things like Are we having fun yet? or Is it Friday yet? or Can I go home yet? A desk you can crawl under and say, "There's that darn pen!" or "There's that darn invoice!" or "There's that darn petty cash I accused Johnson of stealing that led to him being fired and the subsequent hostage situation!" 

A desk where you can label the trashcan Suggestions or stand one of those revolting troll dolls or hang that wacky photocopy of Todd's face (he's really funny!). And if you can do all that with just a desk, just think what you can do with your own cubicle! Why, you can hang a colorful shower-curtain over the entrance or keep a beach ball in it or cover the walls with pictures of George Clooney or Nicole Kidman or Shar-Peis (they're so cute!). You can post cartoons from Dilbert's page-a-day calendar, since you're the only one in the office who has one. You can get mad when someone borrows your chair because you've set the armrests to the height you need. You can have a gumball machine. Magnetic poetry. A coffee warmer. A nose pencil sharpener.  A cover for your mouse that looks like a real mouse(!). You will begin to live, and not just work, in your cubicle, and the next thing you know you will be retiring with full benefits and a fat 401-K, and building your dream house in southern California. 

And no one wants that.

Once you arrive at your new position, you will be "shown" what to "do." The person training you will assume, since you've been there for three minutes, that you know absolutely all the information about the company's policy and history, that you have your own password for the computer, and that you know your way to "Skip's" office. You won't know any of this. You won't even know who "Skip" is, or whether or not he has an office. Or chronic gas.

Find out where the photocopier is, and avoid it at all costs, because it hates you. It can sense temps, and you will be able to hear it's paper jamming and crunching as soon as you approach. Of course, advances in copier technology have fixed this problem, so some of the newer models will instead silently jettison their toner supply in the middle of your copy session. Good advice: If you need to copy a document, just take it back to your computer and retype it.

Your computer hates you too. Maybe you should just recopy it with pencil and paper.

Why take chances? Just throw the document away and, if asked, tell them you gave it to "Skip."

BREAK ROOM

Also known as the Seventh Level of Hell, the break room is to be avoided at all costs.  It is drab, dull, smells like stale popcorn, and invariably filled with women discussing, at full volume, how their teenage children just aren't doing as well in school as they could be.  Also, if you're lucky, a television made in the 1930's broadcasting, at full volume, Jenny Jones (show #311A:  My Girlfriend is a Lyin' Hootchie-Mama!!!).

LUNCH TIME

For reasons we've just covered, don't eat your lunch in the break room.  Run away.  Visit the local café or patisserie where you might enjoy a light repast of turkey, sliced electron-thin, on crumbly, multi-grained bread with sprouts, sunflower mustard, and carrot shavings.  Wash it down with a thimble of mineral water or, if you're feeling risqué, a small bottle of Hawaiian Red Nectar Raspberry Cream Wheat Honey Ale.  It's only 23.65 (no dollar signs on this menu), served promptly to your table, which has the surface area of a cufflink, in just three short hours.

Smug: It's What's For Lunch.

AGENT (Part II)

At some point during the day, your agent will call you to see how you're doing.  You may hear some snickering in the background as you lie and tell your agent the job is fine and you like it a lot.  If you do mention a problem or personality conflict, your agent will inform you cheerily that the last temp they placed there is still undergoing trauma therapy, and that they will have someone to replace you in no less than six weeks.

QUITTING TIME

What, do I have to spell everything out for you?  Go home, knucklehead.  And get some rest.  You've got a another big day ahead of you tomorrow.

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