That gives you a good idea where temps stand on the vocational food chain–scooping poop starts to look like ambition. I’m a grown man with a bachelor’s degree, and I am a temp. A staffing solution. A job gypsy. One of those shiftless mercenaries your company calls in when a menial task can’t be put off any longer. If there are data to be entered, files to be filed or bulk to be mailed, I’m your man. And like a certain bug-eyed comedian, I am respect-deprived.
Nobody likes temps, and it’s not out of jealousy. On the infrequent occasion that I land an interview for a permanent job, my temping background is openly regarded with suspicion. Employers assume that I am by nature capricious and disloyal. You’d think, on grounds of economic principle–temps keep wages low and profits high–that I’d engender more reverence. I’m “flexible.” Isn’t that what they want?
Granted, when it comes to reliability, temps aren’t exactly Chevy trucks. Sure, there may be some who have used the company phone to call foreign countries. And yes, I was on the clock when I download-ed those pictures. I just don’t see how this separates me from regular employees. Just because I don’t work in the same building every day doesn’t mean I can’t wait to swipe all the glue sticks or go out to lunch and never come back.
My permanent co-workers (henceforth, “perms”) treat me much better. Many apologize for the work their company assigns, assuming it to be the most degrading task I’ve ever undertaken, when in reality it’s par for the course. The only bad thing perms do–and I’ve yet to meet a perm who doesn’t do this–is ask me if I’m “having fun yet” as I work. Indeed, the question is posed several times a day, eventually supplanting all conventional greetings. I am at a loss for a response. I am clearly not having fun, nor is any fun pending.
The fine folks running the temp agency don’t refer to us as “temps,” preferring instead to use an array of patronizing euphemisms like “field agent” or “representative.” My personal favorite is “talent.” As in “We match the best talent with the best job.” Talent? Well, if lacking marketable skills is a talent, then yeah, we’re a pretty gifted bunch. For some reason, temp-firm people find it necessary to weave an intricate fantasy wherein something they call our “skill set” undergoes meticulous examination, our career goals are thoroughly assessed by a panel of experts and a fulfilling, rewarding position tailor-made to fit our dreams and ambitions materializes.
They also pressure us relentlessly to brown-nose the clients, since goody-goody temps make for better business. Makes sense, but unfortunately no tangible benefits exist for those who do the brown-nosing. If I take the initiative and ask for extra work, the client might never switch temp companies, but I’m stuck doing more work! Would they mind if I took the initiative and asked for extra pay? I have to pull teeth to get my weekly pittance as it is. Temps are required to get a supervisor’s signature confirming that we did, in fact, show up. Woe be the temp who discovers on Friday afternoon that everyone resembling a supervisor has gone home for the weekend. Half the time my time sheet is signed by the janitor. Any other line of work, it’s a given that you get paid for your labor. In temping, they make you beg.
It gets better. Many agencies have rigid dress codes and then send you to assignments so menial they barely require pants. Do I really need to be in top hat and tails to make binders all day? Meanwhile, the employees I’m supposed to be dazzling with my sartorial splendor are milling about in leotards and bathrobes, asking me why I dressed up.
It goes without saying that temps have no health coverage, no vacations and go to sleep not knowing if they’ll have a job in the morning. And you can forget about meeting women. If you’re a temporary employee, you’re a temporary eunuch, too. Pet-sitters get more action.
For all the derision temps endure, every one of us–you, me, the pet-sitters and even the agency consultants–is in the same boat. We are wage slaves with far fewer rights than the corporations we make up. We get fired if the economy doesn’t grow fast enough, and we have no political party to represent our interests. Aren’t we all “temps”? Isn’t all employment fleeting and transitory? The chairman of the Federal Reserve openly proclaimed that controlling labor costs is paramount to the nation’s financial health, and the key to that is worker insecurity. Remember, it ain’t the temps’ financial health he’s talking about, and it’s probably not yours, either.
