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Tuesday, Jan. 20, 2004 / 7:27 p.m. ~That's It, It's All Over~ Six years ago I was looking for a job, and give it a couple weeks or more and we can say six years ago I found a job. As a temp. I was broke, I was selling heirlooms, I was groveling, and I was on the verge of dissolving my relationship with my brother because he didn't help me, he didn't offer the typically expected familial unconditional support I needed, and I'd never once asked before. It wasn't me, the job, it was for money. Brent said I should do it, he recommended the temp service, said they'd hire me, there was no question, and after I went in and filled out numerous forms and questionnaires, and took numerous tests, both written on paper and on computers, I was offered something. That day. I interviewed days later, in a skirt and sweater, pantyhose, shoes with those uncomfortable pointy toes and little spiky heels. I remember exactly what I wore, how tired I was, how unused to the early hour I was, how foreign it all was, I was a bookstore worker, this was an office. My future manager perused my resume, scoffed, "Retail. Huh.", and I complimented her skirt, which was flowery and bright. She was the color of dark caramel and beautiful, but she knew it. I was hired by the HR Manager, not by her, but she went with it, she approved me, and I found out she was my age, we had things in common, but not many. And two months later, or less, or more, who can say, she asked if I wanted to stay. What could I answer, possibly, at all, how could I say, "No, this is not me, I hate this, I can't dress up, I don't have the wardrobe, I don't want the wardrobe, I feel so alone here, I'm the only white person, I don't fit in, this is not me, repeat, this is not me.", but I said yes, and she hired me. So many changes, so many people come and gone, and temps to help out every year, temps just as green as I was. But now I know what I can get away with, I can dress down and still be within the code, I've got it down pat, I know what's what, I know the scoop, I'm one of them, I got sucked in and pulled under, I've been stuck there for years, and years, and the time goes by and I'm still there, I just stay and stay and stay, and I put up with all the bullshit, and secretly I've wished they'd just let us all go... Today our department was officially dissolved. Kukla and I packed our things and tomorrow we are assigned cubicles in the other department, the main one on site, the main reason for our existence as outsourcers for the Large Multinational Corporation. But the story goes like this, they send fewer and fewer papers for them to process, they, the Corporation, sends fewer and fewer papers for them, the people we join tomorrow, to process. We can see what is going on. The people on our site are not terribly bright, they can 'key', and they can talk on the phone if they have to, but it's not brain surgery, it never has been, not what they do, what we did was difficult, yes, but that's long gone, but all in all, in spite of it all, we can all figure this out. We are being phased out. Today I told Penelope and Kukla in a tete a tete, "Why can't they just tell us? Just lay it all out on the table, tell us how much longer we've got?", and they agreed. Jane visited later too, we all talked, we all know, we all stay, we all just keep hanging on, and for me it's curiosity, I know this, I just want to know, I just want to see, what is going to happen, when, how, how will they tell us, who will tell us, how will we find out? Alas, tomorrow I sit somewhere new, I plaster the gray cubicle walls with my various and sundry plethora-like array of wall calendars and photos of the cats, and I take my chair, and my footstool, and my radio and my fan and later I get my Pentium III PC, because it's newer, and I listen to new sounds and new voices, and I feel new temperatures, and I breathe new dust, and shuffle new papers, and I sit bored and go home early, because I hear that's an option for them now. There is no work. No fanfare, no ceremony, no hugs, just Kukla addicted to the Interweb newly found on her PC, me packing, and it took surprisingly little time. I stowed most of it in my filing cabinet, and it has a lock and I have the key, and I will get Computer Dude to move it for me, when the time is right. Tomorrow everything is different and we never go back to what it was. We were supposed to have two more weeks, but it's all over now, (M) told us today, it was the surprise we always knew was coming. It was a long haul, my longest job ever. Now, prepare for Bush and his version of the state of our Union. Cost of the War in Iraq
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