And I Will Try To Fix You

Come December, I will have been a receptionist for seven years. A job I was told would be a "stepping stone" after graduation. A job I never expected to love. A job I never expected would change me. A job that, after all these years, still surprises me daily. Oh, and frustrates me daily. (These are both good things.)

I love meeting new people and making friends with my regular visitors. I love having something that keeps me busy all.day.long. I love when people realise the indirect power I have. I love being able to passive aggressively mess with jerks.

People can be absolutely nasty to people in a service related job. Whether it be a waiter, cashier, or receptionist. I'll never understand the need to be rude to another person. Especially someone who is trying to help you.

I'm not saying it's right to spit in someone's food. To put your bread on the bottom of the bag, or to send your calls directly to voicemail. I'm not even admitting these things happen on purpose.

But they might.

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Digital Idiots Or This Is Why I Hate

I think my snark has gone up. I’m not sure if it’s from being in the work market, getting older, or a combination of the two, but I’m more argumentative. It’s possible I’m looking for the balance between being a pushover and a bully. Whatever the case, I think my callers are in trouble.

The last few weeks I’ve been cutting off the idiots mid-sentence, hanging up on the ramblers, and calling out the liars. My boss not only approves of this but it brings him glee. What’s good for the career is good for the soul, right?

Today I got in an argument with a caller over an employee. He asked me if he was back at work. I wanted to know why he thought he was gone. Certainly if you knew him well enough to call him at work, you'd know if he was actually HERE. I don’t think I was asking for much. I explained that I didn’t know all 300 employees personally but would page the shop if he was confident his friend was here.

I looked up the employee later. He hasn’t worked here since last April.

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The Carnie And The Convict

A new week brings new visitors. We're still getting a steady stream of job applicants. My favourite so far was from a former carnie. For six years he traveled with a carnival. I liked his attitude; sadly he had no qualifications to work here. Many of the walk-ins have no idea what our company does; nor do they care. They apply to qualify for their unemployment checks. I get why they require job searches, but blinding applying at random companies isn't productive. Regardless, I don’t mind signing the forms providing you seem to care.

One gentleman doesn't even try. He throws his unemployment form down and demands I sign it. Last week he brought in two! Out of fear I signed, but deep down it bothers me. It's blatant abuse of a system designed to help people.

On a brighter note, a different gentleman applied yesterday. He made sure to tell me that the president knew of his qualifications and that he was recently released from prison. With honesty like that, how can you not love him?

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it's a small world

This week we have a foreign exchange student job shadowing at our company. Since she is studying for Administrative Assistant, she has been working with us in the front office. Whenever you’re showing someone your job, you realise how dreadfully boring everything is. Yes, it keeps me occupied, but no one cares to hear about it. When people ask about your day, they don’t care about the tasks you completed, they’re interested in the drama or human interactions you had. “How was your day at the office honey?” “Great! I collated paper!”

She plays along nicely though and I shouldn’t be embarrassed. She works in her office herself and can relate to boring work. The biggest different she pointed out was the amount of meetings. She said her company only had meeting when they "had something new to talk about". Clever!

We bounced her around the company and hopefully the day wasn't too long for her. If nothing else, I imagine the language barrier and culture differences kept her interested.

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Travelling Oldies Style

Since I started working fulltime, the seasons aren’t as crucial. When you were in school, you had large breaks to enjoy. My years now have three seasons: Vacation, Waiting for Vacation, and Returning from Vacation. Obviously, vacation season is the best (but most brief). The longest (both figuratively and literally) is the waiting season. The returning season is painful.

I mention this because in the last month, I have gone through all three seasons twice. I hate readjusting. Eight (work) days after returning from our California trip, we packed up and headed out on our wedding/road trip extravaganza. In seven days, we went to two weddings, two rehearsal dinners, four drinking excursions, three states, and two provinces. Did I mention we drove? We covered 3,000+ miles in 61 hours and spent over $400 in gas.

It was different. Highlights include: the radioactive scan at the boarder, driving through Prince Albert and Drinkwater SK, the cheese humping mouse, and driving in kilometres.

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Faulty Wiring

I often get into arguments about sleep. Morning and night people have no common ground. We'll never understand each other. I've been accused of being lazy and undisciplined (I’d like to see a morning person stay awake as late as I do). When I started working first shift, my mom thought I'd never last. Be awake and functional before noon? It was unheard of. I was told that the mornings would get easier (not true).

I know why I’m tired during the day (it’s because I don’t sleep at night), but I cherish the nighttime. It's the highlight of my day. I generally can make it to work close to my start time. It then takes a few hours before I’m fully awake. When I get home, I’m wide-awake.

Thursday night for one reason or another was a long one. I had a nap around dinnertime and was awake again until 3 a.m. On Friday morning I was woken up at 10 a.m. (AKA two hours after my shift at work starts). Oh hell. My alarms across the room were both set properly.

I'm glad things are easier now.

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Why So Scary?

It’s a new week with a new interesting visitor. Unlike the man in yellow, this guy was bizarre. He looked and smelled like he had just left a bar fight. His eye twitched (or maybe he was winking) and he had visible bruises. He talked about how he was from Arizona and needed a job. After I explained to him that we would be slow through the summer, he asked to leave his resume. (This is normal.) I didn’t think he had one on his person, but he proved me wrong. He dug through scraps of paper in his wallet and produced a ripped, folded note. It was covered in a grayish powder. I decided to photocopy it for him.

He then proceeded to ask if he could get food from our cafeteria (we have no food and I’m not letting you wander around in our shop). He settled for water from the cooler. Fine. After reading his resume? All the jobs listed are from 2007 (or earlier) and located in Racine. He also listed taking “General Courses” at my high school. His address? It doesn’t exist. Colour me confused.

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It's All About The Beaver

Today was my first day back at work. I looked forward to coming back for the simple fact that I get to relax. Initially I take a vacation because I need a break from work. Before it’s over, it occurs to me that work is less strenuous. I have a schedule and a routine that serve me well. While on vacation, my SO and I have a sick need to make the most of it. We get up early, keep long hours, and cram as much into the day as possible. It’s amazing fun and I never regret it but it leaves me in pain. I’m left wondering if I need a nap or a massage.

Last week we tore up California. We went to Comic-Con, Craig Ferguson, Conan O’Brien, and Disneyland. A twitter follower said this would make his head explode. I’m apt to agree with his statement. The highlight of my trip was seeing Jim Beaver in a Supernatural panel. Having just watched his tragic end in Deadwood, it was enjoyable to see him up on stage. Most actors I enjoy as a specific character. Jim Beaver? I enjoy him in all of his roles.

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Can You Feel The Love Tonight

A little known fact about me: I’ve always wanted to be a bartender. Even before I drank or went to a bar, I wanted to be one. Who could resist the glamour? You know, the drunken cliental, smoky air, and dim lights. Normal people have more ambitious career paths. I choose the one that makes me happiest. Bartenders are masters behind the bar. They’re multitasking geniuses of retail, mixology, and social interactions.

Tuesday night I had the opportunity to stand behind a bar. Everything looked and felt so different. I’m not sure why I jumped on the opportunity. It could have been the two beers (courage!), the four sodas I drank (energy!), or the genuine desire to help. Regardless, I now jones for more of it. I found out you learn the tricks as you go. I also found out the biggest different between answering the phone and taking a drink order: If you can’t understand the person, there’s no guessing. They will know if the drink is wrong and the fix isn’t as easy as retransferring a call.

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By Whatever Means Necessary

I feel relieved. I think. I got what I wanted, but took the coward’s route. My need was simple: Get my vacation request approved. Instead of getting up the nerve to bring my slips to my boss, I left them in her mailbox. My excuse, albeit pathetic, was true: I forgot that the slips were on my desk (I didn't mention it was intentional). Regardless the result's the same; I’m going on vacation!

I love going on trips, but I hate this panicked feeling. Part of it is because I can’t plan for everything. I also hate to spend money. The bigger part is now I have no vacation time left. I don’t have a buffer of extra time. Which brings me to another point, why do I feel guilty for going on vacation? I earned it. Leaving on vacation feels like a death sentence. I’ve seen it happen before. You train someone to do your job (feels like giving away trade secrets) and next thing you know they have your job.

Maybe I shouldn’t worry. As I find out every time I come back, no body else wants my job.

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Smeg, The Cat Has A Cousin!

Five years. That’s how long I’ve been a receptionist. Each week I'm still surprised. It’s like the best reality show you’ve never watched.

Today it was a visitor. We've had a lot of job applicants. We’re not hiring but they still have to try. Each has a different story. Since we’re a machine shop, most are casually dressed. A few still wear a suit but nothing like this last guy.

He was well spoken and nicely dressed. He was informed about the company and made small talk. He was an ideal applicant. What made him special was his clothing. He had a long, fur trimmed brown coat, custom tailored pants, and a gold chain. Oh and his pants and shirt were florescent, day glow yellow. I kid you not.

The amount of time, money, and effort he put into his outfit was staggering. Oddly, I think he pulled it off. It worked in a horrifying, blinding kind of way. He could have gone overboard with a hat but he knew that was too much. I’m left wondering what kind of car would go with that outfit?

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Behave Or Your Pens Are Mine

One of my responsibilities is buying office supplies. As many know, this is obnoxious and often difficult. People are stupid and irrational when it comes to their crap. I’m not sure who’s worse: the paranoid user who needs 20 in stock to be safe, or the inflexible user who needs brand names. I can forget I’m dealing with grown adults. I especially love finding messy ink cartridges on my desk when a note would suffice.

These days I need permission for everything I buy. It is stressful. I need to price it out, keep it reasonable, get it approved, and keep everything in stock. I get zero love or help when I run out. Trust me, it is sad.

This week our paper ran out. Normally we buy it on sale and order enough for 6 months. Unfortunately, 6 months in this economy could mean zero to hero and back. Never mind getting $700 approved. I revised my normal order, cut it in half, and made my plea. Today, May 1, I rejoice. For today I ordered paper. It seems dramatic, but I’m honestly excited.

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Crack Me Not

I went to a chiropractor for three months. I loved them very much. In the beginning, I saw results. As the treatments diminished, so did my progress. I ended up with no new friends and little success. (I had high hopes for both.) At best, I can claim the pain is different. At worse, I can recognize the pain is still there. Unfortunately the cure is more treatment.

As much as I like my chiropractor, I don’t want to put his kids through college. I can’t afford the monthly maintenance and honestly don’t think I should need it. I’m not old. I’m not even old enough to be bothered by old jokes. I try to sleep, sit, and stand correctly. (At lot can be blamed on work. I sit at a desk, starring at a monitor, answering phones all day. I get it.)

For now, I’m going to ignore his calls. The monthly maintenance isn't covered by insurance. I’ve also stopped cradling my phone and put my monitor in line with my keyboard. These steps should help. I just wish there was a better (cheaper) solution.

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Why So Serious?

Just when I start to think that I've heard everything, something new comes along. Today a walk-in surprised me. He comes in and causally chitchats. It turns out he was representing a cleaning service. What made him strange was his approach. He was so sad. Actual conversation:

Him: Who does your cleaning?
Me: We do that in house.
Him: Really? Why would you do that to me? I have no business because of people like you.
Me: ...

When I spoke with him further, he reveled that he didn’t like his job. He then asked for a card to show that he "did his job”. I'm not convinced he'll follow up on anything.

The pity pitch was such a backwards approach. I told him he was the saddest salesman I've ever seen in my 4 years. He countered that he could have been even more pathetic. I hope he was serious about leaving his job. He has no business being a salesman. It would be a win-win for everyone.

I think I might recommend the “I'm a pathetic puppy dog” sales pitch to the president.

It's new anyway.

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OMG! PICTAR! Plz?

Today someone in the shop collapsed. Emergencies services were called and rendered. As terrible as it sounds, it was the most exciting part of my day. I was disappointed the ambulance went to the CORRECT door. Had they came in the door near me, I could have taken pictures. Probably would have too. The fact this crossed my mind? Terrible. My dad says I should get a new job that “challenges and excites me”. My job isn’t the problem. It’s the fact we have no work. When we had work, I was entertained. This is hardly the time to jump ship for more excitement.

Regardless, it sounds like our dedicated employee will be fine. He’s being kept overnight for observation. Ironically, he moved to 1st shift today (originally on 2nd) after his 3-week layoff. The poor guy lasted through lunch before having a seizure. Everyone here is concerned about trauma to his head. Lately people with head injuries have not fared well. My new motto is don’t touch my head! (It used to be hair; I extended the area.)

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