Coffee for one

Oh I half wish I was back with the trolls. This morning I arrived bright and early at my new assignment- a huge insurance company- and was feeling upbeat as I walked into its glistening halls. Companies like this can be temp paradise- loads of employees so even better for staying anonymous, huge stationery cupboards just waiting to be plundered, and lots of bright, sexy men to get my teeth into, just before I piss off forever to the next job. Other benefits include free coffee, comfy seats and big windows to gaze out of all day long as you pretend you're getting to grips with a complex filing system. Sadly, while the building was fresh and modern, the company was not. I was met by a librarian type called Maura/ Moira/ Myra/ whatever whose cardigan was buttoned right up to the very top of her wrinkly forehead. As she loked me up and down I knew I'd have trouble with this one. Girls that take a bit of pride in their appearance are heavy nonos with this type- I'd kept the make up simple but I reckon my too-low cut top was going to piss her right off. I'd made a schoolgirl error here- if you're given a female's name as a contact for your first day then you need to tone down the feminine charms. It doesn't follow that you need to get your tits out for the boys though- they can see through fake flirting as quick as you like, after all, Working Girl was a long time ago.

So Maura shows me to my desk which is miles away from a window but right next to the chocolate machine. Apparently somebody called Des should be showing me the ropes but he's off with some kid of infection. Grrrrrreat. Coffee is not free and everybody has their own mug AND supply of tea or coffee which they keep locked under their desk. This means I was gasping for a cuppa all day with nobody coming forth to offer me one. I did toy with the idea of borrowing Des's cup and coffee supply but the jar of brown powder had no label on and could have been pure heroin for all I know. His cup was chipped in several places and had a tidemark round the side like a skanky old bath. I'm not looking forward to meeting this hunk. NOT.

The boy speaks

I feel a bit of a fraud for agreeing to contribute to this blog because as of this week, I'm no longer an agency temp. I've just been made a 'company temp', which means I get a company salary but none of the niggly bits that proper employees get like benefits, pensions or rights in any way whatsoever. I have however been a bonafide temp for many years and have plenty of material about my past jobs to keep us going for a while if you're interested in that sort of thing.

My first ever temp job was in a hospital when I was 17. I was a skint A level student desperate for cash and was told the job entailed light tidying duties and making cups of tea. Now I don't like hospitals at the best of times and my stomach is weak in the extreme but I thought hey I need the cash and how bad can making a few fogies a cup of tea be?

In actual fact, my job was in the serious burns unit and involved 'tidying' away bits of skin and bandage and making tea for the cleaning lady, who saw my introduction to the company as being the perfect opportunity to do precisely fuck all but smoke fags. So in between the burning fags of the cleaner and the burnt up epidermis factory building up around me, I was getting all the makings of a nervous breakdown. My temp career started as it would continue for the next five years or so- I wanted to kill myself after the first day. I eventually left after the first week and went to a new agency who promised me exciting and fresh opportunities. Not all was as it seemed, surprisingly enough...more later...

Troll fever

Oh it's my last day here today. Quelle grande dommage. I will therefore be leaving the trolls behind. I have discovered (shock and surprise) that 'Keith' lives with his mother out in Kent and has taken the week off to look after her. This made me think he was a solid kind of guy, so I resisted the temptation to shave his trolls and draw big cocks on his JCVD pictures. I then had the misfortune to open the bottom draw of his 'turret' and find not one but THREE pornographic magazines. To my surprise, they featured ladies and not naked combat heroes. As a strong, independent woman (just like Beyoncé) I disapprove wholeheartedly of porn so am going to dip the heads of Keith's beloved trolls in the toilets.

One of my co-workers came over to speak to me for the first time today. 'How long have you been here, love?' she asked. 'A week.' was my reply. She just walked away shaking her head. I think the pornos might be heading for her 'turret'.

A fresh timesheet

My current 'assignment' (as if using that word instead of 'job' makes the whole process more exciting) is so dull that I won't even bore you with the details. The most interesting thing about it is that whoever I'm covering for has the most comprehensive collection of trolls and pictures of Jean Claude Van Damme than I've ever seen in all my years of temping. More worryingly, the name on the monitor suggests the troll collector is called 'Keith'.