I've learned something today while surfing every website I can think of and wanting to stab myself in the eye with a pencil: there's nothing about work per se that appeals to me besides the paycheck/financial benefits aspect. No shit, right?
I'm kinda confused from the business standpoint about them hiring a temp. Nine times out of ten when I come into some department in the same bat building as always, they have literally nothing for me to do. I end up sitting here thinking, hmm...I could've left my good clothes in the closet...or rather, on the floor. The fleece pants would've been a lot more comfortable. I then find myself caught up in the catch-22 of trying not to look bored though I am and they know that I am. On the bright side, occasionally to pass time, I calculate the next week's check. That temporarily puts a smile on my fast in between clockwatching.
Then again, I'm not one of those people who thinks that work is supposed to be some enlightening, exciting type of thing. It's called work for a reason, you know. Of course, there are cool jobs a person can have, but I, as a green, fresh-faced, unfortunately non-rich and unconnected young soul, don't really stand a chance of getting one. Actually, that's not true. The publishing production job I sent my test-like materials back for yesterday is kinda fun. I get to read total mass market books and nitpick to my desire in order to get it printed. Not so deep inside is an anal English major who relishes proofing and all that shit. I had a good time doing my test stuff minus the fact it was hard to schedule in between naps, drinking, and the soaps. I'd get a kick out of that job...too bad they won't hire me because...ah, who the fuck knows why? If I knew that, I'd have fixed it already. Oh, excuse me...I'm a little bitter.
Anyways, in conclusion: the act of working, sucks. Paychecks and cash, Kitty Power approved.
Posted by Candicissima at March 3, 2004 04:10 PM