Why You Throw Chip?

The charm is wearing off. My visitors are now creepier and less surprising. We have a two-fer!

There were a ton of cold calls today. A visitor wanted to leave information for the IT Manager. As he stapled his business card to a brochure, he asked me if I was “sure that I could manage doing this.” Buddy, you’re dropping off paper, I think I can manage. After I reassured him I was capable of taking care of this task, he asked to use the bathroom. After he finished, he thanked me for saving a life. I’m glad he appreciated peeing so much. This would constitute as a first impression fail.

The second was on the phone. He started chatting with me. First he wanted to know what I was doing (answering the phones), if I was working late (no), and if I received the cable he dropped off (uh). It was strange. When I admitted I knew nothing of the cable, it finally dawned on him that he had no idea who he was talking to. I suppose I could have told him that but then what would I complain about?

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I Judge Book Covers Too

I often wonder how much people pay attention to me. My office area is directly across from the conference room. Whenever they have large meetings people sit near the door, giving them a clear shot into my office. Do they see me fix my hair? Adjust my shirt? Overhear me talking to visitors? It stresses me. Or, on days when I’m falling asleep at my desk, makes me paranoid.

Regardless, 15 of our company’s best and brightest are listening to a software presentation today. It may sound dull, but I’m enjoying it. Not because the information is useful, but because the visitors giving the presentation are fascinating. From their clothing to their mannerisms, they're straight out of a mafia movie. In a crazy-Ally-McBeal-like imagination scene, I envision them breaking out machine guns if we turn them down, or maybe thugs will come in to twist our arm.

It’s terrible to judge someone without knowing them, but that’s what first impressions are about. I wonder if they realise how they appear?

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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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I Need To Know

Our company is located in a... decent area. I don’t recommend walking down the street but it’s fine to drive down. With an emphasis on manufacturing, rather than retail or residential, there’s little reason for foot traffic. Yet this doesn’t seem to stop people. They appear out of nowhere with strange requests. I’ve had people want water, a phone book, or directions on how to get across the street (the building is literally as large as a city block, yet somehow invisible).

I try to accommodate most of the requests. I’ve looked up phone numbers or let some visitors take my entire candy jar. I figure if they’re desperate enough to ask, I don’t mind helping them out. Today a lady pushing a baby stroller came in. I guess she was out for a lovely stroll in the (neighbour)hood. I was more fascinated that she was around 7 months pregnant and desperate for a bathroom. I obliged (what other bathroom was she going to find?) but I’m left wondering; where the heck was she going, on a scenic tour?

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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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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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What's In A Name?

I’ve always liked my name. I’ve never wanted to change it. My family’s naming structure is strange but simple. All of our first names have three syllables (this was important to my dad, but who knows why). Our middle names are after family members. I was named after my Great Aunt Rose (anyone who pulls that name off has to be cool).

Today one of my visitors had the same name as me. I didn’t like it. I felt intimidated and scrutinized. Apparently a big selling point of my name is how few Katrinas I run into. I don't feel (or want) a connection to them and cringe at the thought of having a common name. My name plummeted after the Hurricane and that's a plus.

One night I was at the bar with two James. They liked having the same name. Guess what guys, that’s why you have nicknames and I don't. People try to give me nicknames because they're lazy, but it never sticks. When I started working, they wanted to call me Katie. It was simply to avoid learning a new name. It didn't last long.

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