My pocket protector is better than yours

Have I mentioned how incredibly anal-retentive I am sometimes? That I have created a spreadsheet for NCLM so that I can keep up with my commenting tally each day? Complete with color coding for new favorites, old favorites, people I know in real life, etc? I was born to be someone’s executive assistant.

Cd20 and randomness

I am playing catchup tonight for NCLM; I felt so yucky last night that there was no way I could sit and read blogs and try to make sense of anything. So, you get a craptastic post from me because I really need to go and read what you’re writing and do double-duty on my commenting.

I’ve had two days of positive opks (Tuesday & Wednesday), and last night I revisited the horrific pain of clomid-induced ovulation. Actually, I think my ovaries were flipping themselves inside out in protest of the work being forced upon them. Or maybe they were playing jump rope with my fallopian tubes (Double dutch? Count me in!). At least, that’s what it felt like. Hell, who am I kidding? I’m still feeling it, at least a little bit.

Today is cd20, I’ve been spermed up, and now there’s just the wait. I really haven’t missed this part, the interminable two week wait.

::

Okay, I can’t get this freaking song out of my head. Partly because it’s just a kick-ass song. But part of it, I know, is sweet reminiscing about the first time I kissed a girl. I went through months of agonizing about whether or not I was a lesbian because I really liked it. A lot. But I really liked boys, too, so what the hell?!? It ain’t easy to be 17 and trying to figure out your sexual identity, especially when you realize that you don’t squarely fit into either camp.

19 weeks and (still) counting

It has been 19 weeks since my miscarriage, and I do not understand how that much time has gone by. At least the first four weeks are lost in a haze of partial amnesia. I remember a few distinct events, but most of that time is a blur of sleeping, overeating, and watching both seasons of "Dead Like Me" on DVD over and over again. It was a time of feeling very fragile, as if a single harsh word could cause me to break down.

In that 19 weeks, a friend had a baby, and another girlfriend discovered she was pregnant; a friend's marriage almost ended, and a cousin got married; I overused semi-colons, and I slowly, painfully, began coming back to life. For all that I've been bitching about Supervisor Karol, I have to admit that I'm almost grateful for her. No more than two weeks ago, I was wondering if I'd permanently lost my fire, that certain spark that garnered me nicknames like Diva and Scrappy in certain circles over the years. Between clomid and Karol, though, I woke up. With a vengeance, true, but I'll forgive myself for going over the top just as long as I'm no longer in that funk, that boring neutral-beige haze of indifference that was coloring everything in my life.

Lately I find myself paying a lot of attention to time. Thinking about how long I've been trying to conceive, how long friends have been married, how long since the miracle who is my goddaughter was born. But I know the root of it all is the pregnancy-that-was. I still can't help but think how far along I would be on such & such day. Or about how, at this point, I would have an even bigger belly, bulging out with a baby, feeling kicking feet and poking elbows and mystery bits. Just last night, I had the passing thought, "If I hadn't miscarried, but went into premature labor now, my baby would have a pretty good chance at 30 weeks."

I really think it'll get a little better once my due date passes. Once I can get past the end of July, and stop counting the weeks of my non-existent pregnancy, perhaps I can let things go a little more. Of course, it doesn't help that my mom now has a surgery planned for my due date; it just gives me another reason to remember that date, another reason to stress out as the date approaches. The last time my mom had surgery, she nearly died. As in, me standing by her bedside and being pushed out of the way while alarms went off and people rushed in to work on her; leaning against a wall and watching as my mother struggled for her life, fought for something as basic as a breath.

Hell, is it August yet?

Riding the clomid crazy train

I'm home sick today, and figured I'd take a moment before nap time to do a little catch-up. I had my interview two weeks ago (well, it'll be two weeks as of tomorrow), and there's been no word, announcement, or job offer. I'm honestly not sure how I feel about it all. Supervisor Karol has opened up a big can of crazy, and I don't know that I'd be able to work under her as a "real" employee even if a miracle occurred and I was offered the job. I mean, I just can't even begin to describe the crazy that wafts off of this woman. So much crazy that random people in the building comment sympathetically when they realize just whom I work under. It's really nuts.

So I called in to my agency this morning to let them know I was taking off for illness. The agent assumed I had cold bug, and I just along with it because it was easier. Besides, I really didn't want to have to explain the agonizing pain of having an abscess in the crease of my armpit, and that moving that arm causes shafts of agony to lance through me. And I don't even want to go into what will happen in the next 24-48 hours, when it bursts open.

Anyway, I hate the timing of it all, because I know this will all end up looking really suspicious: that I just happen to get "ill" starting on Thursday, and will probably be home tomorrow on Friday, too... right before a holiday on Monday. I've been the boss before, and I know I would secretly be thinking that someone just wanted an extra-long holiday weekend. Oh well, I can't help what people think. If anyone gives me shite about it, maybe I'll hike up my shirt, peel back the gauze pad that will be covering the healing wound, and let them get a good look at the raw hole in my flesh.

The moods I've been in lately, I'd do it, too. I decided I wanted to give clomid a try for a few months, to hopefully get me ovulating regularly again post m/c. I've been not-pregnant longer than I was pregnant, and my body still isn't back to normal. Back when I was anovulatory, a few cycles of clomid are what kick-started my body, resulting in somewhat-normal ovulation even when I wasn't on meds; I'm hoping it works again.

But of course there's a drawback: the side effects. I've done clomid, femara, and even a couple of soy cycles, and never felt the raging moodiness that so many women talk about getting with estrogen-tinkering drugs (especially clomid). Five previous clomid cycles, and the worst I would say about them is that I experienced quite painful ovulation. Never had the whole emotional thing, though.

I can never say that again. Last week was clomid week, Monday cd3 through Friday cd7, and by the time Friday rolled around, I was certifiable. Worst part, though, is that it took me several days to figure out why I was such a crazed bitch. Don't get me wrong; I fully accept, embrace and celebrate my inner bitch. But Clomid Bitch is another animal entirely, and no one is safe from her wrath, breakdowns, and hysteria.

Last Friday was the day when Supervisor Karol showed her ass. I know I wasn't overreacting by being upset by her words and actions, because the other 3 people in the area were also aghast and upset. But I, or rather Clomid Bitch, was so pissed and offended that I nearly walked off the job and quit.

Saturday morning I was expecting a phone call from my BFF Cheri to go to the zoo with her and my goddaughter Chava. Well, the phone never rang. And of course, I didn't call because something in my crazy-brain told me that I bother my friends by calling them and wanting to see them, and that if they wanted to see me they would call ME (I know, it makes no sense at all). I moped around the house for hours, getting progressively upset, convinced that no one loves me, no one wants my company, and that I am going to die alone in a horrible retirement home where they tie you to the bed. It turned out that she had indeed called, but that there was something funky going on with either the network or my phone, because I didn't get a message until the next day.

You may think I'm joking, but I am deadly serious: I was honestly on the verge of quitting my much-needed temp job, and writing off my best friends of 15 years, because I was emotionally unstable from freaking clomid. I seriously became the Mayor of Crazytown. Luckily, though, once I realized how much more intense things were and that it was because of clomid, I was able to keep myself on a more even keel. If I decide to take clomid again, I think I'll warn my BFFs so they can be my support system.

Days of My (Temporary) Life, weeks 5-6

I can't get into Blogger/Blogspot from work, but I discovered the nifty email-a-post function, and it has set me free. Thank you, Blogspot, for giving me a way to post to my blog instead of working! Sometimes the font and whatnot are a little funky, but I can always fix that later.

April 28-May 2: week 5
Two new temps arrive, and I don't even have the energy right now to come up with imaginative aliases. Let's just call them Gigi and Ellen. I see them long enough to say hello, then I'm off to my little fileroom/office/hole. Thankfully, it's pretty calm and there isn't much work to do, so Andrea can concentrate on starting to train the newbies. Of course, both those "newbies" have years of accounting experience, so they're way ahead of me there.

I decided to toss my name into the hat, and ask to be considered for the permanent position. Accounting work might not be exactly what I wanted to do, but it's a job opportunity; those are scarce enough that I can't let it go by without at least making an effort! I talked to the HR director, and she put my resume into the dogpile.

One of the temps, Ellen, left about halfway through the day; then, she didn't show up on Tuesday. By Thursday, she was asking if she could work part-time until the workload increases. Her reasoning was that she prefers to be kept busy, and there just isn't enough work right now for a supervisor, a senior clerk, and three temps.

Now, Ellen is correct. There are periods where there just isn't any real work to do. But here's the thing: the company is anticipating more work coming our way in the next couple of months, which is why "they" insisted on hiring so many of us temps. If there are days where I have a couple of hours where I'm just counting the holes in the ceiling, that's just fine; I'm still getting paid.

That's the part I don't get about Ellen: regardless of whether we're being loaded down, or are sitting around relatively bored, we're getting paid. Every hour we're here, we're on the clock. And as a temp with no benefits or paid time off, I'd prefer to be here and bored, than at home and not making any moolah. But that's just me. See, Mama Kim needs a new pair of shoes. And to pay her rent, and to put gas in her car's tank.


May 5-9: week 6
So, I'm finally mostly caught up, as I'm at least writing about the current week. Ellen continues to work part time, and complain to me when she's bored. I have become something of the "listening ear" for everyone, and I think it all has to do with location, location, location. Because I'm away from the A/P area, and in a mostly private little room, everyone likes to come down here occasionally to "get away" for a few minutes. And when they "get away", that usually includes venting to me about whatever is going on back in the cubes.

I'm doing okay with the A/P work; Andrea and Karol both say I'm learning well and quickly. Now, while that was enough with the temps that were here before, I can't help but wonder how I'm doing in comparison with Gigi and Ellen, both of whom walked in the door with years of A/P experience. The reason I'm a little bothered/worried is because I know that Gigi is going for the permanent position, too, and I have to be honest and say that she's more qualified than I am.

Damn, I hate being honest like that. But really, if I were the boss, I would pick her over me. And of course, neither she nor I are the only applicants for the position; there are others in the running as well. But both of us were recommended by Supervisor Karol, so I'd like to think that we might have a small advantage over the other applicants. What I'm praying for now is that the one position magically morphs into two, so that I'll have a better chance of perhaps getting one of them.

My formal interview is this afternoon at 2pm, so wish me luck. Of course, I think it's absolutely ridiculous to have scheduled an interview on a Friday afternoon when both parties are in the same building. Heck, I'm on the same floor as the head of accounts; I pass her cubicle a thousand times everyday. And now, on a Friday --the day I usually do icky physical stuff, like filing, messing with storage boxes, shredding papers, etc.—I have to try to remain extra-presentable and sweat-free. Not to mention dreading an interview all day on a Friday, when my thoughts should be heading in the direction of weekend freedom.

Days of My (Temporary) Life, week 4

April 21-22: week 4, Monday & Tuesday
My actual training in A/P began, although I had been shown a couple of things the previous week. It's a little frustrating for me, because I'm the type of person who HATES not knowing what they're doing. I mean I often would prefer not to do a thing, than to take a chance and do a thing incorrectly. This makes new jobs a huge pain in the ass for me. One good thing, though, is that I'm not afraid to ask questions.

Beryl—the temp who got hit on the arm—is showing off her insanity to the world at large. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that Supervisor Karol was right to hit her; not at all, and there's no excuse for it. But Beryl is just going over the top now, and it's clear that she's just trying to make a big enough stink that the company won't get rid of her out of fear of some kind of suit.

Supervisor Karol scarcely dares to say a word to Beryl, for fear that it will be taken the wrong way; almost anything Karol says is met with barely disguised animosity from Beryl now. Even though their cubicles are right next to one another, 90% of the time Karol communicates with her via email. And even that doesn't work, because Beryl prints out the emails, and if they're corrective in nature or constructive criticism, Beryl says that "she's trying to set me up!"

Beryl is almost spending more time in the HR office than she is in her cubicle actually doing work. She snips back whenever Karol dares to speak a word. She corrals Andrea and myself every chance she gets, trying to get sympathy for her "cause".

On Tuesday, Beryl actually called the EEOC to report her incident. Supposedly, someone there told her she could call the police and make report the incident as an assault. So with that in her ear, she began to talk about calling the police. Great big ole can of crazy.

On a side note, the needed third temp, Coco, started on Tuesday as well. Now the A/P department has all the people that the high muckety-mucks say it'll need once all the work from the acquisitions trickles down.


April 23: week 4, Wednesday
Crazy Beryl does Something. I don't know exactly what, but everyone has had enough. Her temp assignment is being terminated, and she is being asked to leave the premises. In the meantime, I think she might have called the police and asked them to come out. Supervisor Karol was told to leave the A/P area, but to stay where she could be contacted in case the police needed to speak with her.

Some boss, bless their soul, decided to send Andrea, Coco and myself out to lunch on the company's dime. We took a long lunch, ate far too much, and didn't have to witness any of the yuckiness that may have occurred while we were out. All we know for sure is that Beryl is gone, gone, gone.

And to top everything off, Karol gets a phone call that her mother is terminally ill and fading fast. So now Karol is not only worrying that she might end up getting arrested, but also trying to make travel arrangements out of state to see about her mother. Somehow, I have become her sounding board and she tells me all this stuff; I really have no idea how that happened.


April 24: week 4, Thursday
Just around lunchtime, Coco gets a phone call. Like most of us temps, she's still "shopping" for a full-time gig even while temping somewhere. Well, she'd interviewed with a company the week before she came here, and they called to offer her a job. And because she's not stupid, she accepted the position.

A/P department scorecard: down 1 because crazy Beryl was fired yesterday. Now down 2, because Coco (who was here all of 3 days) won't be back after today. Karol has arranged to be out next Monday and Tuesday, since she's headed out of town for a long weekend for her family affairs. This leaves Andrea to oversee me… and the two NEW temps who will be starting on Monday. Poor Andrea. She's done most of the training for all the temps that have come through (except me), and now there are going to be two more. When the only backup person she has is little ole me, who has all of 1 week's experience in the job.

Karol mentions to me that even though the company uses temps a lot, and prefers to do so, there is an actual, permanent A/P position that has posted. You know, just in case I might want to apply for the job. She mentions this a couple of times. Gee, I wonder if it's a hint or something?

Is there a baby?

Holy crap, if there's not an update on Dosmamas soon, I'm going to bust a gasket. Blow a gasket? Well, whatever you do with gaskets.

Feeling Snarky

I visited my goddaughter this morning to take her a birthday present; I couldn't wait for her party later today! It was magical to see her little face light up with excitement when she saw her very own tricycle. It was a lovely morning visit, complete with the requisite first spills onto the concrete.

Then I came home and got on the internet. And started feeling more and more snarky the more I read on one of the IF boards I frequent. It seems like most of the posts are rubbing me the wrong way today. I know that a part of it is me; yes, I'm happy that today is my goddaughter's birthday, but I'm a little sad because before the m/c I had figured out that I'd be moving into my third trimester when this day rolled around.

It was all coincidental, but it was really neat: I'd have just moved into my 2nd tri about the time Mama Shel's son Miles was born. I'd be moving into my 3rd tri when my goddaughter turned 3. My little one would be born right around, or maybe even ON, one of my BFF's birthday. Now, instead, all of these joyous occasions will be slightly dimmed for me.

But back to the IF bulletin boards! Yes, I'm a little off-center, but this isn't all me; I was bent out of shape about some of these issues long ago, so I know it isn't all personal issues making me ticky.

Private-- even password protected-- forums
This particular site now offers completely private forums. You can create your own little place, not appear in the directory, and even set up a password so that even if someone accidentally managed to stumble upon your little group, they couldn't enter.

Now that this is possible, every group that feels like it's been persecuted, gawked at, or just plain doesn't want anyone else to see their board, can create a secret-squirrel forum. What. Utter. Bullshit.

It's very simple: If you don't want anyone to see what you've written, then don't write it on a semi-public internet message board, idjit. If you want to have a truly private place to have your high school-esque clique, where no one can join without your approval & no one else can see what you write, then go somewhere like Yahoogroups or MSN groups and make your own little place for free.

You see, I paid my membership fees to this site (yes, it is one of those you pay for!), and that is supposed to give me access to all the bulletin boards. But now, suddenly, there are going to be countless boards that my $$$ can't get me access? Look, if I want to go and read the forum about "Raising & Milking Goats for Fun, Profit, and to Feed Your Newborn," I should be able to. Even though I don't have a goat. Or a goat-milk drinking baby. Or a baby at all, for that matter. It's a forum on the boards that I paid to be on, and therefore I feel I should have access to it.

I know that some people feel like they've gotten more attention than they'd like, or that they've gotten negative attention, on "their" board. So they think this privacy thing is super-de-dooper. But I really just think that:
-It isn't "your" board, even if you created it; it's just a board where a topic you relate to is discussed. The board belongs to the website, therefore any paying member of the website has a right to read and comment there.
-Yes, one would hope that people would be respectful of certain situations and of others' feelings, but let's be real. A bulletin board is just like life: some people will be wonderful and supportive, some will stand on the sidelines and just watch, and some will be total & complete asshats. And because it can be fairly anonymous, the asshats often feel free to be even more asshattier than they would in Real Life. (Asshattier? Did I just make up a new word?)
-If you like to be on "your" board because you get support and help from the others there, WHY would you take it private and deprive others of the opportunity to get that same help?!? As you can see, this whole thing is just punching all my buttons.

Swaying for Gender
There are a lot of women/couples who are not only trying to have a baby, but who are trying to have a baby of a specific gender. I've always thought this a little silly, but can somewhat understand a mom of 4 boys wishing she had a girl. Okay, I'm lying; I really don't understand it. Or, rather, I can intellectually see it, but it just doesn't make any emotional sense to me.

I know that my views are slanted because of my own experiences and circumstances, but I kinda think trying tricks and popping pills to have a certain gender is somewhat arrogant and ungrateful. Having the arrogance to assume that you definitely will conceive no matter what, so it's fine to "sway" with positions, pills, potions and intercourse timing. Being so ungrateful that you're not excited enough about possibly having a child, but that it needs to be a certain gender to make you happy.

Not to mention that this whole TTC business is often involved enough without adding in another variable in the form of gender selection. Is it really such a horrible thing to have 4 boys, instead of 3 boys and a girl? In the modern industrialized world, where rules of masculine primogeniture are no longer important, is it really that vital to try for a son after having 2 girls? Again, even typing that makes me feel slightly ill, as someone desperately wishing for just a child, period.

I will be fair--which is not very easy today-- and say that I don't think that all swayers are horrible people. I really don't. But the horror cases I've seen, coupled with my own background, make me cringe whenever I look at those kinds of boards. And with the mood I'm in today, I don't know why I went there. I always have this voice in my head growling things that Are Not Nice.

But you know what? I'm an adult, which means I didn't write anything snarky there. That's what I have a blog for.

Days of My (Temporary) Life, week 3

April 14: Monday, week three
When I got in, there was a new person in Joanne’s cubicle. Yes, the axe had fallen on Friday, and they hadn’t even had the decency to tell Joanne that she was being let go. Karol fell back on the thing of, notify the agency, and they’ll call the temp and let them know not to go back.

I know it’s the way it goes sometimes, and that it works in the temp employee’s favor as well. Like, if you get into a situation that really isn’t working out for you, you don’t have to tell the employer that you’re quitting; no, you tell your AGENCY, and they contact the employer to tell them that you’re “declining further work on this assignment” and that they’ll fill your shoes right away.

I still think it’s shitty to look a person in the eyes on Friday and say, “Have a nice weekend,” knowing all along that you’ve basically fired them and didn’t tell them. Once again I will say, I am SO happy that I’m in the file room.

The new temp girl’s name is Beryl. She seems nice. The other A/P clerk, Andrea—who is great but barely got mentioned in the previous post—is a little frustrated. Apparently the brunt of training the temps falls on her shoulders, and Beryl is the third one in about two months. Supervisor Karol keeps running through them, or running them off, I guess.


April 16: Wednesday, week three
Beryl is very upset. Reportedly, on yesterday. Karol became frustrated while trying to teach Beryl something, and hit her on the arm to make her stop moving the mouse. Beryl says that her arm hurts still, a day later, and that she is uncomfortable with Karol. Beryl went down to Human Resources and reported the incident.

Karol admitted that she hit Beryl, but claimed that it was a slap on the arm, rather than the punch that Beryl is reporting. Either way, she now has an adverse record in her employee file.

I am in disbelief that there is more drama happening in this teeny-tiny department. And am glad that I’m only here for this week to do more filing, and then I’m outta here!

April 18: Friday, week three
Once again, at barely past 8:00am, while I was fixing my first cup of Joe, Karol approached me. And again, she asked if I’d like to learn A/P, and stay on for a while. She’d had a meeting the day before, where it had been divulged that the company had recently acquired several new companies, and the A/P department here would be taking on their work when things get settled over the next couple of months. As a consequence, not only do they need temp Beryl, but the Powers That Be have stated that she should hire two MORE temps as well. I still think Karol is kinda nuts, but also think that if the universe threw this at me twice, I should pay attention. I told her I would accept the assignment, and we both got to work making it happen.

Even though I had some grave misgivings, I reminded myself that it’s a temp assignment: if I end up disliking the work, or finding that I absolutely couldn’t work with Karol, then I could always quit and get another assignment. My agent knew about Karol, not only from me, but also from Beryl (who came through the same agency as I).

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not someone who just quits things on a whim. In fact, my temperament is stubborn enough that I’ll often stay at something long past the time I should have stopped; but I’m just too stubborn to “give in”. But in this case, I had to give myself the mental relief of a possible “out” to feel comfortable with taking on the A/P job.

So, bwahaha, the joke’s on me. For three weeks straight I’ve told myself, “It’s just two (three) weeks; no matter how nuts it is around here, you can put up with it for a couple of weeks and a paycheck.” And now I’m going to be working here for a bit. Yep, feeling all kinds of mixed up.

Days of My (Temporary) Life, weeks 1&2

Sweet readers, you probably won’t want to bother to read this post, as it is mostly a “Dear Diary”/journal type entry primarily meant to document the last few weeks at my current assignment before I forget it all. Very long, and very boring, to anyone but me, really. Not to mention how terrible it all is, switching tenses every other sentence!!!

March 31, 2008: Monday, week one
This assignment is way out on the edge of nowhere. I have, quite literally, never driven on the expressway as far as the needed exit. Am seriously starting to wonder if the low pay I’ll earn for the two weeks of filing is worth it, considering how ridiculously high gasoline prices are.

Met the boss, a woman named Karol (names changed to protect myself, as none of these people are innocent!). Met the other A/P person, a young woman named Andrea. And there was one other poor unfortunate, a financial temporary employee named Joanne.

Quickly discovered that Supervisor Karol has absolutely zero patience with Joanne. Despite the fact that Joanne is old enough to be Karol’s mother, Karol talks to her as if she is a child. No, I take that back; I wouldn’t speak to a child this way! Very scathing, very condescending, and showing no patience at all. Am very glad that I’ll be half a building away, working in “my” solitary fileroom.

April 1-4, rest of week one
Spent at least half of each day OUT of the fileroom, accomplishing nothing at all. There are issues with the computer in my theoretical cubicle, and I have to be on hand as the computer tech works on it so I can repeatedly try to sign on and log in to various things.

Felt very frustrated, as I am getting next to nothing done. Kept wondering two things: one, why can’t the tech log in using his own identity to see if the programs are loaded correctly? Is it really necessary to keep me standing—yes, standing, as there are no extra chairs anywhere around here—for hours while he works? And two, why is it so freakin’ important for me to have full computer access? I’m here for two weeks, filing, and then I’m out of here, suckers.

Karol stinks. She actually stinks, as in a bad smell. I can’t figure out what it is. It isn’t funk, like someone who didn’t shower. It isn’t pee or feces, or anything like that. It isn’t that weird mildew odor I’ve smelled on some people when they have super-thick hair, and don’t dry it completely (and it stays vaguely damp and gross all day and evening). I have no idea what is causing her odor. I found out she’s a dog person, and wonder if it has something to do with that. But you know, I’ve been around plenty of crazy dog & cat people, and have never smelled anything like this before.
At first I thought it was just my imagination, because surely no one could smell that bad and not know it. But the other temp made it clear in our private conversations that yes, Karol does reek. I nearly gagged one day when she stood too close to me for several minutes in conversation.

April 7-10, week two
The denigrating behavior continues towards Temp Joanne. Karol’s mouth is really something. She’s one of those people who just doesn’t know how to talk to people, you know? I don’t see how Joanne takes it. I would’ve told her off ages ago if she’d been talking to me like that. I know that we all have to suck it up sometimes on the job, and take crap we’d rather not, but Karol is really beyond the pale.

Oddly enough, except for one comment last week, I don’t get any lip or attitude from Karol. I’d asked her if she could help me with a question I had. She snarkily said, “No,” very flatly. I just shrugged, and said I could just go back and do my work in the fileroom, then, instead of this special thing she’d asked me to do. I think I shocked her, just calmly stating what I was going to do. She kinda sniffed, and mumbled something about me having a lot of lip, especially for a temp. But you know what? I haven’t had a real problem with her since. Still, I’m sincerely looking forward to the end of this assignment.

I found out that Karol just got promoted to the supervisor position about a month or two ago. I tried to take that into account, that maybe she’s nervous and uncertain about her new job, but that still doesn’t excuse the way she talks to people.

April 11, Friday of week two
Karol ambushed me at the coffee machine at approximately 8:03am, while I was fixing my first cup. She came right out and told me that temp Joanne wasn’t working out, and that she was going to let Joanne go. Then she asked me if I’d be interested in staying on to take Jo’s place, and learning accounts payable.

I was completely taken aback for so many reasons. First of all, I hadn’t had a single sip of black nectar, and I don’t function well without a tiny bit of caffeine. Second, the few pistons that were firing in my brain were appalled that she was being un professional enough to tell me—a temp—that she was dismissing an employee, to see if I’d be interested in her position. Third, I absolutely, positively, did not want to work for this woman, and my poor brain was at a loss for a way to refuse. I finally came up with, “Um, I have to talk to my agency,” and escaped as fast as I could to my hidey hole (the fileroom).

Well, she didn’t wait to get further word from me. She just went right ahead and told the head of HR that she wanted to keep me on, and asked HR to talk to my agency. When she told me that, I was like WTF?!?!?!?

So I hurriedly went to talk to my agent on a break to give her a heads up about the situation. That I did NOT want to work closely with Karol, not the way I’d have to as an A/P person. I had been fine working in the fileroom, but would be driven mad if I had to have constant contact, being in the next cubicle over. My agent assured me that she would take care of the situation, and I didn’t have to worry my pretty little head about it.

Of course, I couldn’t leave it at that. I decided to nip everything in the bud as soon as I got back to the office. I calmly and quietly told Karol that I didn’t feel comfortable taking an A/P job since I had practically no experience in that area. The accounts payable that I’d done on a previous job was such a different process that it really didn’t count at all. Karol accepted it, saying that it wasn’t going to hurt her feelings if I didn’t want to do A/P.

But then, just to add another twist to the story, Karol offered me a third week of fileroom work. Even though I’d finished up my two weeks and assigned tasks, she had more she wanted done. I felt weird about it, but Mama needs a new pair of shoes (so to speak) so I accepted the assignment.

The rest of the day was surreal. I interacted with Temp Joanne, with whom I’d developed a great rapport over two weeks, knowing all along that she was going to let go. The part of me that is subconsciously involved in the Black Conspiracy urged me to tell her, or at least hint, that her job was ending. The part of me that insists on keeping to certain codes of professional behavior even when others around me are not, urged me to keep my mouth shut and stay out of the whole situation.

The universe decided to take pity on me, and gave me an out. I overheard conversations of Karol’s where she was speaking to someone, in despair about the resumes she’d looked over. Apparently, even though they had been using temps in the A/P position, they were advertising inside the company for someone to take on the job as regular/full time, and she hadn’t really cared much for the applicants she’d been presented with so far.

Then Joanne came to the fileroom to talk to me; she needed to vent, bigtime. She told me about the latest fracas, and how she was having a hard time Remaining Christian and keeping quiet and meek, when Karol spoke so badly to her. She then confided that she’d called her agency that afternoon, asking that they start looking for another assignment because she wasn’t going to be able to take Karol much longer.

And that was when it all came together: a way to give a bit of warning to a fellow temp, without (fully) compromising myself. I casually said that it was probably good timing on her part, as I’d overheard how “They” were about to hire someone permanently for the position. I felt so much better. I’d managed at least a little warning, without telling her she wouldn’t be there much longer. TGIF.