Office Temp, Ugly Red-Headed Stepchild

Jessie had always gotten by in a manner that adhered to that turn of phrase “hand to mouth.” She did so by “signing up,” as it were, for as many temp agencies throughout the Manhattan area as possible. She would vary up her so-called skills and expertise from company to company so as to be as malleable and hireable as possible. When employers were actually pleased with her performance, asking her to stay on for a permanent position, she would never stay. It was too grim a thought, this endless string of days in the same place, doing the same thing. Varying up the office building at least gave the illusion of impermanence.

She enjoyed being an outsider glancing in on the lives of the “perms.” They with their air of superiority, looking down on her as though she were less than because of the location of her cubicle and the fact that she would never get health insurance. What delusionoids, she balked inwardly, watching them all clack off to lunch at exactly 12:30 every day.

Instead, she would wait until 1:00, still a prime rush at places like Chop’t or Pret-A-Manger, but not at more demure “buffets” like the one aptly titled Midtown Buffet on 7th and 42nd. Too esoteric for office workers and not bourgeois enough for tourists, it was the perfect retreat for a temp looking for a moment of solitude. No matter what job Jessie was working–admin at AOL, fact checker at Associated Press, copywriter for dELiA*s–she never wavered in her daily visit to Midtown Buffet. Occasionally she would take advantage of her “fire-proof” status by taking hour and thirty minute lunch breaks that would lead her to the far reaches of the Hudson Navy Yards–for there is nothing more soothing than the sight of water.

When she received the requisite dirty look from her supervisor whenever she returned late, a part of her would flare up with pleasure. That sick side of her relishing being able to irritate someone without him having the balls to be able to say anything about it. Sitting down in her non-ergonomic chair the way a queen might take her throne, Jessie perused through missed AIM messages (this particular office still used AIM). Passive aggressive greetings like, “Not sure where you are right now, but…” brought a smile to her face.

Maybe her purpose in life was solely to remind those who felt that their work was meaningful that it was, in fact, nothing at all–that they were all wasting their time believing in the lie. Their cubed existence was just another way to pass the time with the side perk of getting a paycheck that amounted to pennies in comparison to the higher-ups who employed them.

As Jessie worked on re-designing an ad in Photoshop, she felt the hovering presence of a “perm” behind her. She intuited immediately that it could be none other than Joyce, a matronly sort who still believed in wearing pencil skirts and blazers to the office. Jessie cringed upon feeling Joyce tap her on the shoulder and say, “Excuse me.”

Holding back a sigh, Jessie swiveled her chair around (she often thought about how office swivel chairs mimicked someone being possessed by Satan). “Yes?” Joyce backed up slightly, spooked by the calm demeanor Jessie was constantly showcasing.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been taking an excessive amount of pens from the supply closet.”

Jessie smirked. “And?”

“Well, it’s part of my job as team leader to make sure we don’t overuse the quota of supplies allotted to us. Other people need those pens.”

“Really? Because I don’t think anyone even uses pens anymore.”

“You seem to.”

“That’s so I can shove them up my pussy in the bathroom to get some kind of satisfaction from working here.”

Joyce blinked at the rate of a hummingbird’s wings in response, perhaps letting the statement wash over her so that it could then go through her as though it never happened.

“Please stop taking pens you don’t need…what’s your name?”

“Mara,” Jessie lied.

It was then that Jessie truly apprehended the beauty of being the office temp–the ugly red-headed stepchild of office working: it offered the comfort of total invisibility.