9-8-00 - Theme Weak?

I think next week is going to be a theme week.  I like theme weeks because they give me direction and the whole thing comes out slightly more organized.  'Slightly' being the operative word.  'Organized' being a word that really does not apply here.

The only question is... what should the theme be?  A few ideas I'm kicking around:

Sports Week:  Three professional temps duke it out in a heated, week-long contest.  Only one can come out on top, but who will it be?  Daily updates with stats, scores, interviews, injury reports, drug scandals, and highlights.

Skillz Week:  Five days, fifteen essential skills.  Learn them, hone them, swap them with your friends.  From typing to interviewing, from feigning interest to feigning ignorance, from laughing politely to stuffing your pockets with stolen office supplies, a complete run-down on what every temp needs to know to be in the know, you know?

Fiction Week:  It's time for some escapism!  Everyone loves a good book, so this week will feature excerpts from five different temp-related novels that don't really exist!  The genres will be science-fiction/fantasy, romance, hard-boiled detective mystery, techno-thriller, and horror.

So, those are my ideas.  Frankly, I'll probably wind up doing the Skillz Week, since I've already written most of it, but I think the other two ideas could be fun.

Like any of these ideas, or got any of your own ideas for a theme week?  E-mail me!  Haven't seen any of my theme weeks yet?  Check the archives!  Don't care one way or the other?  Get bent!

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e-mail: temp@notmydesk.com

9-7-00 - I'm Tired of Putting Stupid Puns Here 

Since I'm claiming this is a site revolving around temping humor, I suppose I ought to include some humor about temps.  Temp jokes, perhaps?

Of course, it's late, and rather than create all new temp jokes, I have instead chosen to modify some old, well-known jokes, and give them a temping theme.

Enjoy!  And if your sides split with laughter, make sure you get to a hospital, because that could be fatal.

 

Knock-Knock.

Who's there?

A temp.

A temp who?

A temp that you've hired to replace a permanent employee.

 

 

How can you tell if a temp has robbed your house?

There's probably some stuff missing.

 

Why did the temp cross the road?

There's not enough information to sufficiently answer that.

 

 

How many temps does it take to screw in a light bulb?

One.

 

 

Three temps walk into a bar.  They have some drinks and hang out for a while, then go home.

 

 

What's the difference between a condom and a temp?

That should be fairly obvious.

 

 

There once was a temp from Nantucket.

He temped for a while, then was hired on permanently.

 

 

What do you call 5000 temps jumping out of a plane?

I don't know of any airship that could hold that many people.

 

 

Why did the temp throw his clock out the window?

Possibly the clock was broken, or had angered him in some way.

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e-mail: temp@notmydesk.com

9-6-00 - Tempo, Tempo

So, something a little different today.  This is something I've been working pretty hard on over the past few weeks or so.  I didn't tell anyone I was working on it, not even my friends or family, because I really wanted it to be a surprise.

I'm new at this whole thing, so I really hope I haven't embarrassed myself.  I don't think I did.  It's always hard to tell looking from the inside out.  Still, I think this came out really well, and I hope you enjoy listening to it as much as I enjoyed creating it.

Make sure your speakers are on, click the link below, and get ready to rap!  It's time to...

LISTEN TO THE TEMP SONG!!!

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e-mail: temp@notmydesk.com

9-5-00 - Temple of Groom

Do you know what happened to me at my current job?  You're not even going to believe this, but it's true.

*SNIP*

They moved me into the bathroom.  You heard me right.  They said "You're not going to be sitting at this desk anymore.  You're going to be working in the bathroom.  You can sit on the toilet, use the counter as a desk, and keep your Post-It Notes in the paper-towel dispenser.  Oh, and you get to watch everyone doing their business all day long."

*SNIP*

Okay, maybe this didn't happen.  But I wish it would, because I already have to watch everyone doing their business, and none of them do it in the bathroom.

*SNIP*

First, there's our director of development.  Every morning, he stands right in front of my cubicle and brushes his teeth.  Why he can't do this in the bathroom, I don't know.  He goes in there, wets his toothbrush, squirts on the paste, and then comes out again, just to stand in front of me, brush his teeth, and talk about baseball.  Now, I like talking about baseball, but not when I am being showered with tiny bits of foam that have been in someone's mouth.  Particularly his.

*SNIP*

Of course, I am also an expert on the menstrual cycles of the female employees.  I know the brand names of the feminine products they buy.  I know how severely they are "flowing".  This information is helpfully offered to me up to three days before the "flowing" begins.  Thanks!

*SNIP*

Those employees with children, well, I get to hear about their children's potty habits.  If they have infants, I even get detailed descriptions of the color, texture, frequency, and even scent of their "poopies".

*SNIP*

And, of course, there's our elderly receptionist, who takes a healthy portion of each afternoon to clip her fingernails.  She does this right at her desk.  I sit there in my cube, my body tensing up each time she clips a nail.  I don't know how fast her nails grow that she needs to do this every single day, and I don't know why each individual nail needs quite so much attention. All I know is, this goes on for about forty-five minutes at a stretch.

*SNIP*  

That's what it sounds like.

*SNIP*

Annoying, isn't it?  Still, it can't go on forever, right?

*SCRITCH SCRITCH SCRITCH SCRITCH*

Ah.  There's the nail file.

If anybody needs me, I'll be in the bathroom.

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e-mail: temp@notmydesk.com

9-4-00 - Labor Pain

Welcome to Not My Desk, the number one site on the internet for nude women with hiccups!

Think I'm kidding?  Do this:

Visit Google, at www.google.com.

In the search window, type 'nude women with hiccups'.

See?  Number One.  At long last, this site has been recognized for what it really is.  Champagne flowed like water 'pon this night at the corporate offices of Not My Desk, I can tell you.

Of course, it's not really that difficult to become the number one site on the internet for nude women with hiccups.  It's staying number one that's the real challenge.

Well, I intend to do just that. I don't care what it takes.  If I have to personally interview hundreds of nude women, with or without hiccups, so be it.

Anyway, on to some temp stuff.  There was an article in the San Francisco Chronicle the other day about the National Labor Relations Board ruling that temps are now allowed to join unions.  The ruling states that temps may join the same union as their permanent co-workers without first obtaining permission from their agency.  The AFL-CIO is happy with this, believing it will improve wages, benefits, and working conditions for temps nationwide.

This doesn't really change anything for temps like myself, however.  It really only applies to the long-term temps who stay with the same company for years and years, like those Microsoft temps who went to court over stock-options.  

Once again, another victory for temporary employees!

Boy, does that suck.

Temps are getting more and more rights in the workplace.  Union representation, participation in stock-purchasing plans, benefits... if this keeps up, temps will be just like permanent employees.  They'll have offices, pensions, job security, expense accounts, respect... then what the hell will I have complain about?

If you want to read the article, well, I didn't link to it. Frankly, I'm too lazy.  But if you still have Google open, I'm sure you can do a search for it.

Happy Labor Day!  Say... why is it that it's called 'Labor' Day, yet we all get the day off of w--

<SOUND OF POWERFUL ELECTRIC SHOCK>

Sorry.

Thank God for three-day weekends.  Friday was a very, very long day.  It was only after a particularly annoying two-hour commute that I realized I had a sign hanging around my neck reading: "RANDOM DROOLING MORONS: PLEASE TALK TO ME".  

I have to stop wearing that thing.

My boss pulled his usual Friday stunt, disappearing for a good portion of the day, only to show up five minutes before it was time for me to leave, to suggest we "get some work done".  As I glowered in his direction, he said "or were you planning on going home?"  

This was not facetiousness on his part.  He really meant that question.  As I answered him by putting on my coat, he got all pissy and retreated to his office.

I think he's one of those people who really have nothing going on in their lives except their jobs.  At the end of the day, when everyone is packing up and leaving, he's there watering the plants (although they pay a company to do this for them) or examining the wallpaper for air bubbles.  I've been putting in some overtime recently, and even when I am dragging myself miserably out of the building at 8pm, he's still in his office, settling in with a magazine or catalog.  He's there Saturdays more often than not.  When something goes wrong that requires him to spend some extra time at work, he complains about it in a most unconvincing manner.

He informed me he hasn't taken a vacation since 1989.  I've calculated that he has enough frequent-flier miles from his business trips to fly around the world, for free, six times (not that that would be much of a vacation).

This is a man who makes well over $200,000 a year, and if he retired, which he was eligible to do several years ago, that amount would actually increase until the day he died.  He owns four Mercedes.  I'm sure he has a big beautiful house.  He has the means and the money to go wherever he wants to go and do whatever he wants to do.  

I think the only way I would ever work the way he does is if I could have a desk made entirely out of LEGO Bricks.

For more on that, check out this page on www.ericharshbarger.org.  So darn cool.  Thanks to raven for showing me this site.

(For an alternate to the Venus DeMilo at the top of the page, check out this Picasso.  It's a little racier, I think.)

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e-mail: temp@notmydesk.com

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