
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.

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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