Grindstone? What Grindstone?

Ah, the life of a temp. The "on-again","off-again" bullshit that is the temp workers daily round. Where you are not an employee, but a "representative" of an agency. Sent out in the world like a toddling orphan to seek your fortunes in whatever highrise has bought your skill set that week.

To appear attentive and focused, but not too much.
To appear lively and have a good personality, but not too much.
To be a "team player" with no team.
To give them the best you have to determine if your best is really good enough to deserve medical coverage.

Which is the equivalent of the downtown core determining your health. "Don't get sick, there's work to be done for Uniforce/Temps 'R Us/Temps Ahoy!"

Why am I so bitter, campers? Why can't I take my lumps like the rest of the workforce? Ah, because it's not just as simple as showing up.

There are interoffice politics, mind-numbing exercises in staying busy, and all the usual crap required of today's multitaskual worker without any of the money or benefits they receive.

Remember, you're a "representative" of an agency, not an employee. You are required to behave the way a puppy in a pet store window does. Cultivate the "I'm eager to please, now take me home and make me your own" look. To show that somehow you take the company's mission statement more to heart than the numbed-out souls who are already there do. In short, to be ever-curious and in awe of that company, as if regarding a holy relic or amazing new household appliance.

My last assignment was for an aviation company that had me cleaning out a storage unit built with time-sensitive lighting, so if you didn't hover under the trip unit every 3 minutes, the entire place went pitch-black. I was in a 8-by-10 foot cement and aluminum box inventorying plastic cartons of files that were so old they were splitting at the bottom, when suddenly - the midnight hour! My very own isolation tank filled with a moldy banker box smell.

God, I'm so glad I went to the trouble to learn to type well, write well and use all that mo-dairne office equipment like the fax machine and the Microsoft Office Suite. All those needed qualifications the agencies are looking for, so I can build my career path out at Shurgard Storage Units. Thanks, Uniforce!

When I interviewed there, the hiring manager told me that "I'd never be without work, we're building this database, see, and you're going to be doing a lot of work on it, lots of research..." Within two months, he was blankly looking at me and asking me if there was something I could think of to work on. This, after constantly poking my head into his office asking for more projects.

And the thing is...it's not just the work that's inane. It's also the general psychology of it all. People are reduced to such sameness that it gets to a point of plodding predictability. There was this one guy who would always raise his eyebrow at me in the hallway, one of those "hey guy!" moves. Same hallway, same eyebrow. Or the jittery administrative types, usually female, who fidget in meetings and look like frightened rabbits. You say good morning to them and they flinch.

Or the endless mantra of "is it Friday yet?" What, so you can go have a life for less than 48 hours and convince yourself you have a personality someone would like actually notice?

Or the overly-gregarious types who always come in to your department with a ludicrously cheery "Hey guys! What's the good word today?" What the fuck is a "good word"?

The desperate realization is that all this happens in a void, a vacuum. No one is really listening to anyone else. You co-workers are no different than the paperwork or the meetings you take. That's why everyone is referred to by both their first and last names at work.

Ever notice, campers? "Well, Bill Blah-de-blah in Accounting said we have to..", or "Jane Morrison is attending that seminar this week..." This happens because after awhile, people you work with are indistinguishable from the work itself. Each with their own deadlines - at around 2pm, you know Bob Knob will come in and ask what the good word is, and Minny Admin will come in at 8:30 with her spiky clogs on and talk about the merits of new office supplies.

Human interaction on the job is meant to be as static, blank and informative as your e-mail. You're not supposed to notice others, just move around them while you work. Like pylons set out on the freeway. There are no families at work, no teams. Give it your best shot, kidlets, prove me wrong. Send me your stories of cuddly time from 9-5.

No wonder Christmas parties and office functions are so retarded. What to make of all your work sprouting suits and black cocktail dresses, and following you into an enormous room demanding that you talk about yourself? Um, is the bar open yet? And the great thing is, some companies even notice you didn't attend. "Aren't going to the party, eh? Hmm..." As if you weren't meeting that deadline, either.

And it's not localized. You could get ten office workers in a room together from all over the world and it would be a campfire story where everyone knows the ending.