So why do I have oodles of noodles and free time? Well, on the noodles front, everyone knows that Ramen Noodles is the #1 import of college students the whole country over. As for time, now that I am "graduated," I don't have any classes to take. I also just wrapped up my 5th stint as a textbook temp. this past week, a 5 month period in my life that I came to know as the "Work Struggle." Why was it a struggle, you ask? It sounds like an easy job (which it mostly is), but that place was also a veritable breeding ground for contempt. How so, you ask? Oh kids, let me count the ways...
1) As a temp, you're just a statistic
Make no mistake about it, there are certainly far worse things to get paid for than shelving books, but the job is far from glamorous. In fact, it's the simplicity of the job that strips you of most of your feeling of individual significance. Yes, short of being a prostitute, hitman, or drug dealer - three things that are lucrative, but also come with the concern of being allegedly "illegal" and you being "arrested" - it's tough to find paid work. But as a textbook temp, you should harbor no illusions - you're not invaluable. You're doing a job that any person on campus could probably do, and while you should be proud that you somehow coerced someone into paying you to do it, showing your friends the empty space that you have saved for that potential "Employee of the Month" plaque makes you look like a real McAsshole.
2) Mind-numbing tedium and monotony
Hard to stay motivated to scan and shelve the same books for roughly the 3,000th time, but hey, that George Orwell "1984" isn't going to walk its damn self back over to the English section. What's worse is that there are actually times when we run out of stuff to do. Those are the days that you watch the clock, swearing that the hands are moving backwards. But we all know that nothing makes that work day fly by faster than taking that 5-hour lunch break. Though to be fair, it was a REALLY moderately-sized lunch.
3) Overwhelming sexual tension
It will never cease to amaze me that the cute foreign chick who worked in the technology department next door to us didn't start greeting me at the door everyday, bosoms first. I figured that was the logical next step after she teased me for so long by helping all of those customers and generally not knowing I existed. Nothing tests your resolve and B.S. abilities like having to explain why you're caught putting your scrotum back into your pants every morning. Those are the last times I make that mistake....
4) Soul-crushing incompetence of students/customers around you
Everyday, you get to meet college students who have no concept of what numerical or alphabetical order is. These kids clearly never learned their AB3's, relying on mommy and daddy to pay someone to make all of the big words and numbers go away. It was baffling how many students wouldn't even bother looking for their books first, opting instead to show up with a schedule in hand and come up to us saying "I need someone to get my books for me." Generally, I couldn't get on it right away because I'd be too busy looking for the question mark that surely got lost in transit on their way in, so I'd try to pass it on to someone who wasn't disgusted by such wanton disregard of politeness.
I often fielded questions about books and their respective sections that were within spitting distance of the person asking me the question. While it's understandable that one may, albeit incorrectly, think that their "Statistics 2500" class may located in the math section, chances are that your "Agricultural Economics 1042" will NOT be. Also, it will probably be located in the "A" section of the store, hobnobbing with the "Agriculture" and "Agricultural Education" books. And yes, if you get to the "Journalism 4201" shelf tag, you'll know you've gone too far.
Everyday, you get to meet college students who have no concept of what numerical or alphabetical order is. These kids clearly never learned their AB3's, relying on mommy and daddy to pay someone to make all of the big words and numbers go away. It was baffling how many students wouldn't even bother looking for their books first, opting instead to show up with a schedule in hand and come up to us saying "I need someone to get my books for me." Generally, I couldn't get on it right away because I'd be too busy looking for the question mark that surely got lost in transit on their way in, so I'd try to pass it on to someone who wasn't disgusted by such wanton disregard of politeness.
I often fielded questions about books and their respective sections that were within spitting distance of the person asking me the question. While it's understandable that one may, albeit incorrectly, think that their "Statistics 2500" class may located in the math section, chances are that your "Agricultural Economics 1042" will NOT be. Also, it will probably be located in the "A" section of the store, hobnobbing with the "Agriculture" and "Agricultural Education" books. And yes, if you get to the "Journalism 4201" shelf tag, you'll know you've gone too far.
5) Some Coworkers. They're the worst.
A couple of years ago, when I first started working at the store, I spoke of this heffalump that I worked with that bugged me to death. In the interest of sparing her dignity, I won't name her again, but a short jaunt back to Textbook Temps will quickly jog your memory of whom I am speaking. She's a round, overly sensitive, less-than-hygienic, chatterbox of a girl, and unfortunately, those are the 3 qualities I appreciate the least in a coworker. She's one of those people who has a chronic issue of over-sharing information, especially if said information is tough to believe or inappropriate for the workplace. Wearing a scarf on the first day of September is odd, but we would have let it slide if we knew you were going to say "because my boyfriend gave me a hickey." Okay, first of all: EWWWWW. Secondly, no one's buying that, and you shouldn't be selling it. But whatever you say, middle school.
Before I left, I'd taken to just not speaking to this person at all if I could help it. I did this for two reasons: number one was because I have a VERY limited capacity to suffer fools. I'm not good at coddling people who are clearly fishing for attention, and it would have resulted in tears being shed. Secondly, she had this habit of explaining every single thing she did as if it were a mission handed down from God Himself. I hated that so much that I felt like even acknowledging it would validate her. How could I sleep at night knowing that I encouraged such behavior? Case in point, she brought cookies one day during our last week there. Upon my arrival that day, I was sarcastically talking to someone about how much I would miss the job when this girl interrupts our conversation to alert me that she had made and brought cookies. I was hungry that day, but knew that if I ate any cookies, she'd win, so I contemplated not eating any at all. But that's unbelievably petty. The much more mature thing to do was to eat them behind her back, making sure she never saw me and got that validation. Deception tastes DELICIOUS.
Unfortunately, not only has she ratcheted up her insistence on unknowingly irritating me, but she's been joined by occasional fellow temps that are equally annoying in their own ways. For instance, there are those people who talk too much, not in the sense of constant yapping, but in the sense of talking out of turn. Two hints that we don't want to hear what you have to say: one, no one directly addressed you in the conversation, and two, we've gone out of our way to close the conversational circle with you comfortably on the outside. No, we don't need your anecdote about how your sister just adopted a new puppy; not because it's not a cute story, but because it doesn't fit naturally into our "what's for lunch?" conversation.
But you know what's worse than coworkers of your own age? Older coworkers that are nothing more than patsies who do everything they can to exercise any little bit of power they've been given. Specifically, this female linebacker who worked in the department next to ours had this awful habit of watching us and either directing us to go do work or going to our supervisor and snitching on us. We're grown-ass men and women - we don't need someone coming through our section and keeping tabs on us because it gets her rocks off. We're not in your jurisdiction, so just stay in your lane, chickenhead.
6) Because I'm melodramatic.
A couple of years ago, when I first started working at the store, I spoke of this heffalump that I worked with that bugged me to death. In the interest of sparing her dignity, I won't name her again, but a short jaunt back to Textbook Temps will quickly jog your memory of whom I am speaking. She's a round, overly sensitive, less-than-hygienic, chatterbox of a girl, and unfortunately, those are the 3 qualities I appreciate the least in a coworker. She's one of those people who has a chronic issue of over-sharing information, especially if said information is tough to believe or inappropriate for the workplace. Wearing a scarf on the first day of September is odd, but we would have let it slide if we knew you were going to say "because my boyfriend gave me a hickey." Okay, first of all: EWWWWW. Secondly, no one's buying that, and you shouldn't be selling it. But whatever you say, middle school.
Before I left, I'd taken to just not speaking to this person at all if I could help it. I did this for two reasons: number one was because I have a VERY limited capacity to suffer fools. I'm not good at coddling people who are clearly fishing for attention, and it would have resulted in tears being shed. Secondly, she had this habit of explaining every single thing she did as if it were a mission handed down from God Himself. I hated that so much that I felt like even acknowledging it would validate her. How could I sleep at night knowing that I encouraged such behavior? Case in point, she brought cookies one day during our last week there. Upon my arrival that day, I was sarcastically talking to someone about how much I would miss the job when this girl interrupts our conversation to alert me that she had made and brought cookies. I was hungry that day, but knew that if I ate any cookies, she'd win, so I contemplated not eating any at all. But that's unbelievably petty. The much more mature thing to do was to eat them behind her back, making sure she never saw me and got that validation. Deception tastes DELICIOUS.
Unfortunately, not only has she ratcheted up her insistence on unknowingly irritating me, but she's been joined by occasional fellow temps that are equally annoying in their own ways. For instance, there are those people who talk too much, not in the sense of constant yapping, but in the sense of talking out of turn. Two hints that we don't want to hear what you have to say: one, no one directly addressed you in the conversation, and two, we've gone out of our way to close the conversational circle with you comfortably on the outside. No, we don't need your anecdote about how your sister just adopted a new puppy; not because it's not a cute story, but because it doesn't fit naturally into our "what's for lunch?" conversation.
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| Don't worry about my damn TPS Reports, wench. |
6) Because I'm melodramatic.
All told, my experiences working as a textbook temp have been far sweeter than they have been bitter. I'm just a bit dramatic. If I weren't providing "color" commentary on it constantly, then how would you all know how real my struggle was?
*******
Well guys, this was fun. Sorry it took so long to get back to you, but I'm glad I did. Let's not wait so long before we get together again, okay? Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off...
Yall take care, and stay classy out there.
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