TEMP JOB
An average job last week at a firm of chartered surveyors. Stout and formidable Marj showed me around on the first day and it took no time to see that she’s the doyen of administration, with an intricate and historical understanding of everything going on. I couldn’t help noticing her desk, which was completely covered in junk. She had endless post-it notes, corny posters (‘We, the unknowing, doing the impossible, for the ungrateful’), pots of drawing pins and paperclips, hand cream, tissues, photographs of loved ones, three different placemat coasters, a corporate calendar, headphones, pottery ducks walking across the top of her computer monitor, etc. It was more of a mantelpiece than a desk. A 2004 Cliff Richard calendar which I didn’t notice at first, hung from the partition board behind her computer monitor… as though she had coyly displayed it somewhere slightly out-of-view.
She was a nice-enough woman but determined that I should have no ‘downtime’. She sent this message to the department, ‘Plymouth Rock will be working here for the next week as we are short-staffed. As temps are expensive, please keep her busy ”. On the first day she kept walking over and enquiring, with a couple of nervous blinks, whether I had enough to do.
By coincidence, I phoned Ticketmaster a couple of weeks ago and was surprised to discover that Cliff has his own hotline. The pre-recorded message ran: “For Cliff Richard, press [1], for Glastonbury, press [2], for all other enquiries, hold the line”. Amazing.
I was there just long enough to catch a glimpse of the people and how they made fun of each other. A staid, sensible chap was universally referred to as ‘David Beige’ when he wasn’t around.
An average job last week at a firm of chartered surveyors. Stout and formidable Marj showed me around on the first day and it took no time to see that she’s the doyen of administration, with an intricate and historical understanding of everything going on. I couldn’t help noticing her desk, which was completely covered in junk. She had endless post-it notes, corny posters (‘We, the unknowing, doing the impossible, for the ungrateful’), pots of drawing pins and paperclips, hand cream, tissues, photographs of loved ones, three different placemat coasters, a corporate calendar, headphones, pottery ducks walking across the top of her computer monitor, etc. It was more of a mantelpiece than a desk. A 2004 Cliff Richard calendar which I didn’t notice at first, hung from the partition board behind her computer monitor… as though she had coyly displayed it somewhere slightly out-of-view.
She was a nice-enough woman but determined that I should have no ‘downtime’. She sent this message to the department, ‘Plymouth Rock will be working here for the next week as we are short-staffed. As temps are expensive, please keep her busy ”. On the first day she kept walking over and enquiring, with a couple of nervous blinks, whether I had enough to do.
By coincidence, I phoned Ticketmaster a couple of weeks ago and was surprised to discover that Cliff has his own hotline. The pre-recorded message ran: “For Cliff Richard, press [1], for Glastonbury, press [2], for all other enquiries, hold the line”. Amazing.
I was there just long enough to catch a glimpse of the people and how they made fun of each other. A staid, sensible chap was universally referred to as ‘David Beige’ when he wasn’t around.
