It’s Wednesday, the day I’ve been waiting for. A hump day. After being told yesterday about what a lousy job the front desk has been doing by the germaphobe known as Donna, I had my hopes set on going to Bill’s wake for his great aunt Betty. I mean, going to the interview after work. I was scheduled to meet the president of the staffing firm, a Leslie Thomson. But first I had to get through the day. I had to go to work earlier than usual. It was no big deal, I was helping Jean, a nice woman from Ireland by way of England.

She’s always been nice to me so it’s a pleasure to be able to help her. She’ll be someone I miss when I leave. I had a dream last night about another nice person in the office, Bill Moore. He’s from English aristocracy, and very down to earth. It’s the wannabees from England that aspire to aristocracy that are the biggest phonies. In the dream it was Bill Moore who was leaving and I gave him a hug and wished him well while dabbing a tear from my eye. He was quite a help today, and he did a lot of dirty work for me since I was in a suit and tie. For the wake.

It was more of the cleaning out of the storage area cum production room. Jenn didn’t make it in today, claiming flu like symptoms but forgetting that she told me about how she had to go to the Korean embassy to get a new passport since she has dual citizenship. It was ok by me, just more shackled to the desk like I hadn’t been in a while. There was a meeting in the production room, myself, Donna, and a few other numb skulls. They stood around discussing moving this and that and whenever I interjected an idea or told them what I had been doing, it was totally ignored.

These people aren’t friendly, nor are they polite. I just stood there like Homer Simpson with Rock and Roll Part Two playing in my head while they sounded like the schoolteachers or adults in various Charlie Brown cartoons. The meeting ended, nothing accomplished except for Bill Moore rolling up his sleeves and throwing things out. I went back to my desk not really running around since Jenn and I were told that the front desk should never be unattended and since I was the only one at the front desk I dared not move.

I found a file on my computer from the previous occupier from January and I found it very interesting. It was about hiring two receptionists.

Here’s a piece of it,
Receptionists – 8.30 – 5.30
Lunch 12.30 – 1.30
Two part-time (because we have burnt out the last two full-timers).
Graduate, presentable, professional, confident, experienced…
Either two shifts / day – 8.30 – 1.30 and 12.30 – 5.30
(total 10 hours at $20 = $200 x 5 = $1000/week)
or divide the week into full days,
(8 hours at $20 = $160 x 5 = $800/week)
Phones, conference rooms, office supplies, kitchen supplies.

Apparently they needed two part time receptionists since one gets burned out. Guess what? I am the one receptionist. And I am burnt out. Nice salary for part time work. It shows me that they recognize what a hard job it is, and how they don’t do a thing about the situation, they just keep losing receptionists. I’m merely the latest to be heading to that revolving door. It’s like they just keep putting Band Aids on an open wound. Fuck them.

I left the desk unattended at 4:00 like I had stated that I needed to do. Linda was supposed to be covering and she was taking her sweet time. I had to go and get my ride to White Plains to attend the wake, and or, get to the interview. I hopped on the 1 train and was soon in Times Square only a block or so away from where the job is. I got there on time naturally and met Leslie Thompson. We sat in her office and discussed my resume and how well regarded I was by the staff in the office who I had only met last week for about twenty minutes.

As she perused my CV, she asked about the music industry and what kind of music I liked. I answered the Beatles, because it’s true. That set her off. Oh my she loves the Beatles. She proceeded to tell me about how much she liked their new CD, ‘Love’ and what a fun experience she had listening to all 25 tracks. I told her I didn’t get it yet because when ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ came out on DVD a few years ago in November I bought it the first day, upsetting my sister because she was hoping to get that for me for the holidays.

She enjoyed meeting me and basically told me the job was mine after we discussed salary and benefits, she just needed to call Wanker Banker and speak to my supervisor Gillian Wallis for a reference. I called up Gillian once I hit the street and gave her the lowdown to which she said she’d give me a glowing review. Now it goes into the waiting game. Leslie Thompson mentioned that if I didn’t hear from her early next week, I should give her a call. They’d want me to start in January by the way. Cross your fingers.

And thanks for the 4:30 good vibes.

Tuesday. A stupid day of course. It just gets worse everyday. Before I get into it though I just want to dispel one of my sister’s worries. I will be working at a staffing agency but I think it won’t be the same because I’m not the same, the company is not the same, and the people that work there are not the same. So yes, maybe this time it will be different. I don’t care if it’s the exact same situation (it won’t be) I’m pretty desperate to get out of the hell that McMann and Tate is becoming.

Today’s shenanigans started when I saw Terry getting off an elevator and I said ‘Hi’. She said nothing in return. There are two things I don’t like about Terry. Namely her face. But I can rest assured that since she’s working full time her acting career is on hold so we won’t be seeing her tired and increasingly fat ass trodding the boards or gracing the silver screen. Thespians around the world can breath a sigh of relief knowing that the 25 year old girl with the ass of a 50 year old mother of five won’t be competing for any roles anytime soon. And I think she’s a virgin. Anyone who has ever gotten laid cannot be as uptight as she is.

You can’t call this character assassination since this chick with the extra chromosomes has no character whatsoever. For some odd reason she wobbled over to my desk to throw out a cup of coffee, then turning back waddling to her desk. This woman is named after cloth by the way, actually named after fabric. Stupid hippy parents I guess. Today I was moving things around in the storage room also known as the production room. Most things get tossed in there that aren’t used anymore, and they get moved around quite a bit. The past week they decided to add more people to the staff and needed to set them up somewhere.

So things that were moved around a few times already actually got moved back to where they were a few months ago. It was a job I do by myself with Linda occasionally fluttering about saying how she thinks I should have someone helping me out with this. There is no one willing to help, hence me moving things about all by myself. This is one of the good things about having to work in jeans. No need to worry about getting my suits dirty.

And the dress code was something that Donna sat down and talked to Jenn and me about today. The main subject was about what a bad job Jenn and I are doing. It turns out, an interviewee came into the office for an interview late Friday afternoon and Jenn and I were in the kitchen setting up for the alcoholic happy hour. Neal, the guy who was interviewing was furious that no one was at the front desk to greet this guy. Ok that’s understandable, but it was rectified in a minute. Donna had to point out that there should always be someone at the front desk. If you need to step away, one should ask Linda, Terry or Donna.

We both knew better than to ask any of them. Donna also mentioned that the front desk was a mess and it needed to be tidied up. When you’re standing in front of the desk there is no way on hell that you would be able to see the post its under the ledge. Also we’re the first people you see when you walk into the office but the situation is such that the front desk is tucked away and you don’t see the front desk. And since we’re the face of McMann and Tate, we should dress better. So despite how dirty the job is or how filthy I get, it really doesn’t matter as long as we look nice. I dislike them all intensely and want to get the fuck out of there as soon as I can. It’s the best for all concerned actually.

If you’re so inclined tomorrow, Wednesday afternoon around 4:30PM EST, please send me some good thoughts and wishes for I will certainly need them.