Tuesday, March 14, 2006

I don't work for YOU...

For the past few and the next couple weeks I'm working in a construction office in lower Manhattan. This is the same construction co. that I worked for this past Summer/Fall, but not the same personnel. This time there's only one guy in the office, he pretty much answers the phone himself the whole time. I'm not traveling all the way to the last stop in the Bronx for 8am - generally I get there at 9a.

Better situation altogether, right?

Of course not....

Dude's ability to explain could be better; for some reason, I am generally not in the mood to receive explanations while on this job. He gives me tasks that I could easily do in 30 minutes (boring) and I take as long as possible to do them so as to reduce the amount of time I have to spend getting instruction on how to perform tasks (lazy/poor attitude). He also has me calling people to send in documents so he can complete this project. This is scarily reminiscent of cold-calling. I hate cold-calling. My father used to make me cold-call for him. I've worked several jobs where I had to cold-call. I'd rather sweep a large room with small broom than cold-call. Don't know what it is? Ask four people you know. One of them is either currently doing it or hating that they once did it.

When I first started this assignment, dude asked me for my e-mail addy. I assumed this was so he could send me messages about when he'd like me to come in and whatnot.

But no, dude likes to cc messages about the job. Or call me to see where a document is.


Money apparently don't get this whole temp thang. I come in complete tasks (or as much as I can in the amount of time you're willing to pay for) and scram until the next time. Once I leave, I don't think about what goes on in this office. If you can't remember where something is, I DAMN sure can't remember where something is. Need to ask somebody to fax something back that I shouldn't have? Go for it, but don't cc me in the email.

I don't care. I don't work for you.

I work for the place whose name is on my checks, and I've noticed several times that that name is not ****** Construction Company.

This is what it's like to go back to the office world after spending 6 weeks in the arts world.

I'm still suffering residual pissyness from dropping well over $1K on this V/O reel. I'm flip-flopping about how to go about finding new representation.

I also NEED to get out of this country.

Then there's the school loan deferment form that I need to retrieve from the homestead.

And the junky-ass room.

And such

and such

and sucH


I hate this post and this post hates me.

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