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Yes, for the first time in months, I had work. I'd forgotten the rush that happens when my Pimp calls me saying I'm gonna make $12/hour. The feeling of purpose as I shave for only the second time all year. It's like the first day of Spring. A moment when everything is possible. I feel like Mary Tyler Moore (don't forget, I'm old).
As I unwrinkle my only pair of clean pants, I think about how today I could impress a big-time Hollywood executive. I could wow them with my hard work, intellect and determination. Before you know it, I'll have a full-time job, benefits and be well on my way to achieving entertainment industry success.
And then, the data entry begins and the dream dies.
I suppose the thing that bothers me most about Temping isn't the work, but the surprise and praise the employer heaps upon you when you complete the most simple tasks.
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And that's what life is like as a Temp. Everyone is surprised you're not some knuckle-scraping, drooling fool whose most articulate sentence is "Me talk pretty one day" (and not in reference to David Sedaris).
I can't wait to go back.
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