Another temp gig, another mangled pile of twisted metal in this train wreck called a “career.”
In all fairness, my new job (I’m only 2 days in as I write this) is 100% better than my last assignment which was at a call center for major Japanese automaker. I began there in February and lasted until May when I was unceremoniously, but justifiably, advised in an abrupt Friday night email that my assignment was now completed.
Don’t come back, sucker.
I loathed the call center Big Brother vibe and the need to use my voice for 8 hours straight. I have no one to blame but myself for attempting such a preposterous role. I know my limitations.
Jobs are scarce for those of us around 60 with no specialized marketable skills or lavish personalities, especially in today’s volatile employment environment. I bit at the first chance to work that presented itself even though I was taking an enormous risk. That’s how I roll, a little reckless and a whole lot of stupid. I’ll try anything once, and in the case of call center torment, will never try again.
I started my new job this week. It is in a traditional desk/cubicle environment, a clerical assignment that requires some brainpower but not so much that my brain will be fried by the time I clock out each evening. The call center consumed my spirit, killed my emotional and mental states in totality. By the time I would get home, my body and mind would be drained like a desiccated victim trapped in a spider web of futility. I would not have energy to do anything, say anything, and I was a miserable wretch to live with. Losing my call center job was the greatest thing that could have happened. (Ask my wife who was forced to endure the embittered, unhappy person I became while working for major Japanese automaker).
Of course, I speak in glowing terms about my job now, but it can turn on you in an instant because no firm gives a damn about you and your endearing salutations and BS about being hard worker and an analytical-thinking go-getter. They know it’s hot air and they owe you nothing, least of all respect or commitment. You can be out the door on a whim and there is nothing you can do about it other than hate the world. If you find a job, even a temp job, that you actually like and wouldn’t mind seeing last a long time, enjoy it for the moment and work hard. In today’s world, there is no such thing as reciprocity from employers. Just because you’re conscientious and do the “right” thing, don’t expect a pay-off. It may happen, but may just as likely not. Keep the unfortunate possibilities close in your headspace. As the samurai would say, be dead, or in this case, be unemployed. Never be surprised when you lose the job you thought you were good at.
So for the moment, I like my new job. It is onsite and will eat into my writing and blogging time, but not nearly as badly as my job at major Japanese automaker did. That job ate me up and spit me out, a bloody pile of bones that clattered to his car every evening and drove the short commute home. Living close to that piece of shit job was the only consolation. Lacking mental energy, my writing life took a drastic hit, and it wasn’t until I lost the job on May 2 that I was artistically unleashed again.
My writing will take another blow this time around, but it won’t be nearly as impactful. Now, I have surplus creative energy even after a full day on the job. This job does not consume me like a ravenous burden weighing on my shoulders every second of the day. In fact, I am writing this after eating dinner and working 8 hours. It’s fine, for now.
On Wednesday, we learned that a trainee who started in our group of 5 has dropped out. She didn’t like the job as much as I, apparently. It came as no surprise to me as she was one of those 40-something bitter people who seem perpetually unfriendly and judgmental; it’s as if that sour expression, permanently affixed to their face, is a manifestation of the distaste and disgust they harbor privately for everyone they come in contact with. She was heavy but in that contained manner where she still had a curvy figure and her face was not round, but she carried most of her weight in the wide-load bootie and legs.
She was the type of person who makes me feel unpleasant and cornered. I was glad to hear she left the temp pool, and especially glad I would not have to see that mouth again.
She rarely smiled but when she did I was perversely riveted by her upper gum line which was prolonged and ribbed; it stretched deeply into the upper recesses of her mouth. It was freaky and reminded me of the monster from “Alien.”
With a mouth like that it is easy to understand why smiling didn’t come naturally to her.