The original "bad temp" was Ryan on the Office, whose enormous ego and total shadiness eventually culminated in jail-time.
This season, Dunder Mifflin brought in Cathy, a sleazy home-wrecker who tried to break up Jim and Pam, one of the few on-screen couples that give us all hope that healthy marriages are not extinct. Luckily, Jim tricked Dwight into spraying her with pesticides.
Recently, in American Pie, the legendary Stifler has found himself in a Temp position working for a despicable little Indian executive who takes every opportunity to remind Stifler that he is his bitch.
Stifler makes matters worse by proving that he is a complete idiot.
But seeing these scenarios is upsetting to me because I am one of these administrative mercenaries.
I am a temp. It is thankless. It is humbling.
We, temps, are basically on call. We have no job security. We work for days or weeks at a time for merely a percentage of the arm-and-leg that the agency charges the client, with no benefits. The companies can extend or end the employment period on a whim.
Companies don't realize what we do for them. First of all, hiring is an arduous process that costs the company time and money. Hiring a new employee would mean paying benefits and going through orientations, just to name a few. It also requires commitment on both parts and the risk that it might not work out for the new person. Thanks to the economy and general aimlessness of our generation, they get top-tier employees at rock-bottom prices.
Temps get thrown into a job with no company-specific training, no knowledge of the office policies, politics, etc., and are expected to pick up where the last person left off. We take on "special projects" that the higher up admin people don't want to do. And we do it all for way less than we are worth.
Luckily, my experiences as a temp have been positive---for the most part. The last company I worked for was awesome and I was sad to leave. But, on my next job, I witnessed the really ugly side of the job.
First thing in the morning--Five minutes early, of course--I reported to the head of my department, a stern, elegant black woman in her fifties, whose blue-eyed glare set me on edge from the get-go. She was brusque with me from the beginning, after directing me to open the mail, stamp it, and deliver it, which would pretty much be the most strenuous of my duties for the day. After that, she pretty much ignored me and I did my best to stay out of her way. To be fair, she was in meetings for most of the day.
During one of these meetings, the receptionist, a flamboyant little man who flitted about urgently throughout the day, had let himself into her office with one of the many keys jingling on his belt loop. He was grabbing a brochure for a client he was helping at the front desk and was out of there in 3 seconds.
When Boss Lady got back, one of her staff mentioned what Mr. Front Desk had done. Well, from Boss Lady's reaction, you would have thought that he went in there and took a dump on the floor.
"Who does he think he is? How dare he let himself into my office. He was just a TEMP! A temp off the streets..."
A temp off the streets! I'm sorry, temps are the Superheroes of the administrative world. Someone's out sick? We got you covered. Want us to do all those TPS reports that your delinquent assistant has neglected in favor of reading Facebook updates? Yes, ma'am.
This next comment really cut me to the core. "Temps are nothing but social pollinators. They come in here, trying to be all friendly with everyone. You're not here to be friendly, Temp. You have a job to do, so do it, and keep your head down."
Ok, Boss Lady, you are not Prince who is legendary and eccentric and has earned the right to command people not to look at him.
(Hey you!!!! Don't look at him!!!!!!)
When our temp agents call us and unnecessarily read off the list of things that a receptionist does, being "WARM, FRIENDLY, and OUTGOING," is frequently first on the list.
For the rest of the afternoon, I was torn as to whether to continue with the three-week assignment or ask to be taken off. When five o'clock rolled around, I stepped toward her office, being careful not to enter the threshold, and said, "I'm leaving for the day..."
No Response.
After a beat, I said, "Ok, Have a great night."
Her assistant chimed in, "Ms. Boss Lady, Shannon's leaving."
Finally, Boss Lady, without lifting her head, said, "Oh. Bye."
I did not go back to that office.
Sure, "Temp" is not the most coveted of titles, but those of us who do it are doing what we can to contribute to society while trying to find our niche. It sure beats sitting on the street with a cardboard sign. And, yes, there are probably many temps out there who screw around because their bosses are technically the agents and not the on-site managers, but for every Cathy and Ryan, there is someone like me who does her best to bring 110% to the table, no matter how close to minimum wage the salary might be.
