More tales from The Temp


So today I’ve been brought in as a temp to help out in a busy medical office. A real Doctor’s office, not like the quack from below.  This office is the hub for all the ancillary clinics. It is one busy-ass place.  My one rub with this assignment is that out of 200 actual employees here on site, about half of them ask that you “announce” their calls.  Really?  You’re that important?   So, I have a list in front of me listing all employees.  If their name is in bold, their calls are to be announced.  So. Annoying.

Here’s how it goes;

1.  Answer phone. 
2.  Look to see if name is regular or bold.  If bold, ask caller’s name and office.
3.  Buzz said pretentious employee and announce who is on the line.
4.  Pretentious employee then 1. takes the call, or 2. (my personal fave) Tells me to put them in their voicemail.  This means I have to go back to the caller and give them some bullshit about his/her not being available or in a meeting and can I offer them their voicemail?

Oh, good one.  I bet they totally bought that.

MIND YOU, calls will automatically go into voicemail after three rings.  So. My suggestion to these holier than thou’s is that let’s say I just put the call through (horror!) then if you see the number and don’t know the number or don’t want to speak to the caller then let it go to voicemail DIRECTLY.  Why do I have to play tag between you and whoever the F it is you don’t want to speak to?  This is totally counter productive anyway as the other lines are usually ringing off the hook when I’m going back and forth between the hotshot employee and the unwashed masses.


So on my lunch break today I mosey back to the kitchen with my new Rolling Stone magazine and phone in tow.  I sat both down on one table (out of eight) in the entirely empty kitchen and went to warm up my matir paneer in the microwave when a group of ladies arrived.  As they were bustling around the kitchen and preparing their lunches, one lady addressed me.  She was standing at my table with her lunch looking down at my things as if someone had taken a dump on the table.
“Are these yours”?, she asked, her face pinched.  Seeing as how I was the only one in the kitchen prior to their arrival I found this to be kind of dumb.  “Why yes”, I replied.  “Well, I’m sorry sweetheart but this is our table“.  I slowly looked around the kitchen at the seven other empty tables. She continued, “This is just where we sit. It’s a habit”.

Suddenly I’m Ally Sheedy.  Mind you, by this time they are all circled around the table holding their lunches and staring blankly at my stuff.  I dramatically stomped over to the table in my clicky work heels and scooped up the offending items with a huff and some extremely obvious eye-rolling.  I loudly placed them on the next table over and giggled at the absurdity of it all.  Seriously, this is how four middle aged women decided to act to a complete stranger?  I’m sure my heart was blessed the minute I walked out of the lunchroom.

Whatever.  Tomorrow I’m gone and they still work in this silly place.

Insert smug look here.

2 thoughts on “More tales from The Temp

  1. Lea says:

    Well, hello. I've just got to the most recent post after reading your entire blog from the beginning, and I have to agree with all those friends of yours who encourage you to write a book. You're fantastically witty and funny, and I've really enjoyed reading you and seeing the whole Jenny/John love story unfold. And I've never read a blog before, but you have me hooked.

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