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Week Two, Night Four

Main Floor, 6:32pm

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” calls out a manager.

“If you need help, just help each other,” he says. “But no talking!”

For a couple minutes after he leaves, the main floor is quiet, save for the shuffling of papers and the clicking of keys.

But we’re only human.

I notice Melissa, sitting next to me, bringing up a new screen on her computer. She lets out a squeal.

“Paychecks!”

Most of us drop what we’re doing and cluster around her. She’s brought up her bank details online and there it is — her first paycheck from this job, sitting in her account.

That means that our paychecks are sitting in our bank accounts. They’ll be for the same amount - all fourteen of us had compared hourly rates the night of the Parking Tickets Crisis when money was the hot topic.

Tonight, money is on everyone’s minds again. We all crowd around and crane our heads to get a closer look at that number on the screen where Melissa is pointing.

“I guess that’s right.”

“Not a second too late.”

“I’ve already spent half that.”

“Geez, they take enough out for withholding.”

“They better start giving us Saturdays. That’s where the money is.”

“I don’t want to work Saturdays.”

“Me neither, but it’s like, double pay.”

“Yeah, but did you hear when they’re going to make us start? Eight am.”

“That’s crazy! I sleep in till noon!”

“Big money, though.”

“But think of how dead we’ll be. We will have worked till 10pm the night before. And on top of that, we all take at least forty five minutes to get home.”

I bit my lip. Shouldn’t have gone there.

“Even you?” says one temp, turning to face me.

Several others turn to look at me.

“Yeah,” I say, maybe a little too loudly, my face turning red. “It’s just as long in the other — it’s just as long heading North.”

“Hey people! That better be a customer problem you’re all working on!” says the manager, making us all jump.

People melt away to their desks.

Except for Sara, who lingers by mine.

“Don’t the houses up where you live cost, like, a million dollars?” she whispers.

“Tons of houses in this town cost a million dollars. It’s not like I’m in the fanciest part of town. You know that.”

“Yeah, but still.” She’s like a dog with a bone.

“So? Mortgage? Hello? Maybe you’ve heard there’s a recession going on?”

“Do you have a pool?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see the water?”

“No. Are you kidding? They’re the ones who are loaded. Now come on, we’re going to get into trouble. Mike is standing right here,” I say, motioning to where he’s leaning over Melissa, explaining something on the screen.

“So?” Sara is undeterred.

“So we should be working. I want to make it to the next paycheck. See you at break.”

“Coke?”

“Definitely. At break.”

“You borrow the badge tonight.”

“Okay.”

7:09pm, Break Room

The temps are still obsessing about money.

“So what have you already spent it on?”

“A jumpsuit,” says Courtney. “Two hundred and fifty bucks.”

“A jumpsuit?” I can’t help myself.

“Yeah, a jumpsuit,” came the retort. “I wore it last night. Didn’t anyone notice?”

People looked around. Courtney pressed on.

“Jumpsuits are back in style. Weren’t they last in, in the 1980s?” she directed the question to me.

“Uhhhhhh.” A parade of torn sweatshirts, ballet leggings, and ripped jeans flashes before my eyes, but I don’t see any jumpsuits. “I’m not sure.”

“They were,” she insists.

“If you say so.”

Her iPhone rings and she looks down at the screen and frowns.

“I need to find a rich boyfriend.”

“Seriously?”

She pretends not to hear me, and takes the call.

“Any more word on the full time job?” someone asks Steffi.

“No, and not on my husband’s job, either,” she says.

She gets up to join Heidi, who’s heading out for a cigarette.

“Wait for me.”

“But you don’t smoke.”

“This will be my first cigarette in two years,” she admits. “But I’m over it. I’m too stressed.”

“I know what you mean,” says Heidi. They leave.

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” said Sharon, sharply. “I pulled up email to see the pay stub, and it’s not done how it should be. It’s not wrong, but it’s missing a lot of stuff that should be on there.

I did payroll for ten years in my last job, and if I’d tried to get away with doing a pay stub like that, I would have gotten into big trouble. It’s unprofessional, is what it is.”

“Are you going to call Kumar?”

“Maybe,” she said darkly.

Justin comes into the break room.

“I didn’t know it was break.”

“You would know, if you didn’t sit so far away from the rest of us.”

“Yeah, but I like it that way.”

“What are you doing over there, anyways? I heard you’re working on different stuff than the rest of us.”

“Special project,” he says, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and rocking backward and forward on his feet. “Can’t talk about it.”

“Come on.”

“No,” he insists. “Need-to-know basis only.”

“Okay, well, I need to know.”

He grins and shakes his head. Then he looks over toward an empty space in the room.

“Still no vending machines down here?”

“Not yet. They said any day now,” I tell him.

“We should probably get back to work,” says Sara, standing up.

I join her, and as we get to the door, I see Cacee bearing down on us from the other side of the door.

I hastily hold the door open for her and squeeze myself back to the wall, hoping to disappear.

She barrels through and continues on.

I breathe a sigh of relief and let Sara through, and follow.

As I get back to my desk, I look hopefully over at Amber’s desk, but it’s empty.

I frown. If she’s in tomorrow night, I’m going to demand she tell me why I haven’t been offered a full time job. I don’t care how busy she is. I don’t even care if she’s on the phone with the entire nation of Singapore. I’m tired of waiting and I’ve got to know. Surely I’m as good as Steffi and Vanessa at this job.

So what’s her problem?

Tags: The Secret Temp by Paul // Add a comment »

Week Two, Night Three

5:28pm, Break Room

“Who’s she?” I ask Sara in a low voice, looking over at the new temp.

“Her name is something like Linda or Lisa,” Sara whispers back.

“So Kumar is bringing in people as fast as they leave?”

“Apparently she heard about this job because she’s friends with Mike.”

I thought about Melissa.

“Friend or girlfriend?”

Sara held up her hands with a “who knows?” expression.

Julien came in the room.

“Okay everyone, are we all here?”

Sara’s eyes narrowed and she turned her watch face towards me. 5:28pm.

“I think a few people are down in their cars waiting to get into staff parking,” I say.

“Great! I’ll go downstairs and let them in,” he says, digging a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Anyone want to join me for a smoke while I’m down there?”

The new temp gets up from the corner of the table, where she’s been sitting on her own, and goes to stand by him.

“Oh yeah, everyone, this is Lindsay. She’s joining us,” Julien says.

Everyone murmurs hello and she gives a quick nod in our general direction, then turns and leaves with him.

“Huh. Not too friendly,” Sara says.

“She might be a snob,” I suggest.

“Could be,” Sara agrees gravely.

A day staff manager comes in. He introduces himself as Adrian. He’s a pretty big guy.

“Hey everyone, I’m stuck with you guys tonight,” he says amiably. “Julien and Amber have to go to some work dinner thing. So they’re taking off soon.

“By the way, I’m supposed to tell you. Apparently you’re all talking too much. There have been complaints from the day staff. We’ve been getting feedback about that.

So no talking tonight, okay guys? Don’t get me in trouble,” he says, with a smile, and turns to open the door.

We get up and follow him, and those of us near the back of the group are whispering.

“What? Is he kidding? It’s the day staff who talks.”

“Yeah, they never shut up. It’s so distracting.”

“The only time we talk is when we are trying to help each other.”

“We actually talk about work.”

“This is so unfair.”

“Who do you think complained?”

“Can’t trust any of them.”

We fall silent as we get to the main floor, and silently take our seats.

I scan the room and to my relief, there is no sign of Cacee nor her boyfriend. Good. The last thing I need is more trouble.

“No, no,” Adrian says, walking behind us. “You all have to change seats tonight. No more sitting with your friends.”

There are general murmurs of exasperation and disgust as people pick up their stuff and change seats. Everyone except Justin, who always chooses to sit in a remote, otherwise uninhabited area of the floor.

I look over at Sara, who’s now three cubes away, and we exchange glances.

Oh well. Tonight I will show them how hard I can work and how quiet I can be.

Tonight, by the end of the night, I vow, I will have gotten a full time offer.

6:52pm, Main Floor

“So I’m on the train,” Adrian yells over a couple of rows of cubes to the other staff manager who’s been assigned to help us tonight. (Julien and Amber have long left for dinner.)

A couple of the temps look up from their computer screens, and look back down.

“Yeah?” the other manager says.

I am trying to listen to a customer tell me her problems with her fridge. I press the receiver closer to my ear.

“And there’s this married couple, and they’re bluetoothing a movie to each other on their phones, it’s a home movie, you get what I’m saying?” he smirks.

“Dude,” the manager yells back.

“I’m sorry, when did you say was the last time you got it repaired?” I ask the customer, and close my eyes.

“But get this,” Adrian yells. “They don’t understand how bluetooth works,” he says, starting to laugh.

“So everyone on the train, who had bluetooth open on their phones, winds up getting their little home movie sent to their phones.”

“Duuuuuuude!” the manager yells back.

Several of the temps look up imploringly from the phone calls they are on with customers. Shut up.

“I know!” Adrian calls back and they do an air high five.

“But was it any good?” the manager calls.

“No,” Adrian calls back. “The couple were, like, in their forties.”

“Eugggggghhhhhhh,” the manager shudders.

“You’re telling me,” Adrian replies.

I am bent under my cube, praying that the customer didn’t hear this exchange.

“Ifyouhaveanyquestionsjustcallthisnumberthankyoubye,” I tell the customer and hastily hang up.

I get up and head over to Sara’s cube.

“Did you hear that?”

“How could I not?”

“I need a Coke.”

“Me too.”

Pause.

“Come on. You ask.”

“I asked last night.”

“I know, but the managers like you better.”

She smiled. “Oh, all right.”

Since we moved down to the ground floor, we’ve had to ask the managers if we can borrow their badges so we can get back up to the first floor to use the vending machines.

Adrian hands Sara his badge.

“Okay, but make it quick. And, you didn’t get it from me. We’re already hearing that the executives don’t like the temps going up there and using their vending machines.”

“What?” I’m stung. “Why can’t we use their vending machines? Is our money different from theirs or something?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is, Amber’s going to say something to you guys about it soon. So use them while you can.”

We head upstairs. I’m on the lookout for executives. I’m not sure what I’m going to do if I see one, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to do something. But the floor is deserted, dark and empty.

“Watch out for Dawn,” Sara says suddenly, as we drop our coins into the vending machines.

“She’s one of the managers that stays around to help us, right?”

“Yeah. Don’t trust her. She’s been complaining to Amber and Julien telling them we haven’t done all the work we’ve said we’ve done.”

“What? You and me? She said us, specifically?”

“She says whoever is working on her customer files.”

“But that’s like half the temps. You know her region [of the country] is a mess. She’s taking up way more of the temps’ time than anyone else. She should be glad we’re helping her.”

We turned to head back to the elevators.

“Hey, how do you know she’s been complaining, anyway?”

Sara shrugged.

“Read her email.”

“No.”

“Yep.”

“Oh, man. That is so dangerous.”

“Yeah, well so what,” she said defensively. “And good thing. Now we know we can’t trust her.”

We get downstairs and, almost immediately, everything goes black.

“LIGHTS!” someone yells.

“Break time,” comes another voice in the darkness.

Sara and I stand there, waiting, till the lights come back on. Then we head for the break room. We hear Justin’s voice.

“…and the managers are saying that if we close all the customer cases sooner, they’ll give us all a night off to go to the local amusement park.”

“Wow!”

“Cool!”

“Really? And they’re going to give us the tickets, too?”

“Yeah, but don’t say anything. They told me, but I’m not supposed to say anything.”

“That would be awesome.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, wait a sec. Why’d they tell you?”

Justin shrugged.

“I don’t know why they tell me stuff. They just do.”

“Well, it would be cool.”

The temps start talking again about the local amusement park and Justin watches the group. He does not say another word.

Tags: The Secret Temp by Paul // Add a comment »

Week Two, Night Two

Break Room, 8:35pm

One of the temps bursts into the break room, looking horrified.

She’s waving a small piece of paper.

“Parking ticket! Did anyone else park out front tonight?”

There is a scraping of chairs and a jangling of car keys as most of the temps scramble for the door.

In the wake, Sara and I are left behind with several others.

“Julien warned us not to park out front,” Sara said calmly, popping open a can of Coke.

“I know. I guess nothing happened at first, so they figured they could keep parking there.”

“Well I’m glad we didn’t.”

“You’re telling me.”

Parking had been an awkward situation for the temps since day one of the assignment.

Ideally, the fourteen of us were supposed to fit our fourteen cars into the eight “Visitors” spaces off to the side of the building. If we could have pulled that off, everyone would have been happy.

To their credit, Amber and Julien had the foresight to realize that this plan was flawed.

So they had devised a back up plan. On any given evening, those of us who didn’t get a “Visitors” spot had to wait in our cars till one of the managers came down and used their badge to allow access to the staff parking lot.

In practice this meant that if you were running late and arrived too late to get a Visitors space, then you were going to be running even later by the time a manager came over to let you into the staff parking lot. It also meant that at the end of the night when you were really tired and just wanted to get home, you’d have to wait around for a manager to use their badge to let you out of the staff parking lot.

And we’d heard that we would get into trouble if we were late for work.

So no one liked having to use the staff parking lot.

In contrast, there was a very tempting swathe of street parking right along the outside of the main entrance to the building. If you read the small green lettering on the little white signs posted along the street, it said that the spaces were only for 15 minutes parking, and that this was the case 24 hours a day.

But would the parking police bother with this street at night, when up until now, no one had been working nights at the building and wanting to park out front? That was the question that seemed to have crept into about half of the temps’ minds during the first week at work, and after a few nights, many temps decided that no, the parking police would not bother to come.

Eight temps trooped back into the kitchen, all clutching small pieces of paper, all looking gloomy.

“This sucks.”

“F–k this s–t.”

“I’m not paying this.”

“If I pay this, I might as well have worked here for free tonight, there’ll be nothing left over.”

“Somebody should do something.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“One of us should call Kumar.”

“He should have to pay this.”

“Yeah!”

“Call Kumar!”

“Somebody do it!”

The requests get directed over to Steffi. Within our unwieldy group of fourteen (a few have come and gone), there’s not much of a pecking order, but if there is, Steffi is the top chicken.

For one thing, everyone likes her. She’ll stop whatever she’s doing to help another one of us. And, she’s completely open about her personal situation, we all know that her husband is still waiting on the go-ahead to start his shipyard job.

There’s more than that, though. Steffi was the first one of us to be offered a full time position. This means she has started to become noticed by the regular day staff, which is a kind of validation that the rest of us covet. Some of the regulars have started saying things like “hey” or “good night” to Steffi as they pack up and leave for the day. The rest of us want that, and we want it bad.

Steffi says she will call Kumar the next day to talk to him about the parking tickets.

“I don’t know what he’ll do, guys, but I’ll try,” she says.

“How much are the tickets?” Sara can’t help asking a temp sitting next to her.

“Eighty one dollars,” came the furious reply.

“Did you all move your cars? ‘Cause one time, I got a parking ticket, so I left my car there thinking, what the hell, I already got the ticket, and then when I came back there was a second ticket.”

“Yeah,” came back the disgruntled chorus. Everyone had moved their cars.

A manager stops in. “Break time over.”

People shuffle out of the kitchen, still muttering and cursing under their breath.

I get back to my cube and sit down and try to focus on work.

I try to focus on the computer screen but something is dangling just above it.

There are some french fries being proffered from the cube opposite mine. They are being held by an outstretched hand.

I half-stand up, to see who is offering the french fries, and there is a young fellow looking back at me with a flirtatious smile.

Does he not notice that I am old enough to be his mom?

Apparently not.

He must be European, I decide.

I think about brandishing my wedding ring in front of him, but decide that is not really necessary. It’s just some french fries. I can let him down easy.

“French fries?” he asks, smiling.

“No thanks,” I reply, and look back at my screen.

The french fries get withdrawn and, a few minutes later, I start to feel kind of bad. That wasn’t a very nice thing for me to do. I’m sure he just meant it in a co-worker kind of way.

Oh my God. He meant it in a co-worker kind of way! That was my first shot at acknowledgment from the day staff. That was my chance to be somebody on this floor. And I blew it.

I could picture the next staff meeting, could picture Victor looking up from his list of temps, and asking the day staff who they thought he should hire.

“Okay everyone….we’ve got Steffi….we’ve got Vanessa…..now what about this one? Has anyone had any interaction with her?”

“No, no, she’s not a team player. She turned down my french fries. Like she was too good for us. Definitely don’t hire her.”

That was my chance to bond with the day staff and I blew it! I get up and hurry over to his cube.

“Actually, I will take you up on the french fries if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” He smiles and offers them again.

I take some, but then I start thinking about it again. I don’t want to owe him anything. A vision of Victor holding his clipboard flashes before my eyes again.

“So what about this one? Has anyone had any interaction with her?”

“No, no, not her. She just goes around everyone’s cubes trolling for food.”

Oh no! Now I’ve made things worse. How can I fix them? I think fast.

“I’m just going over to the vending machines, would you like a Coke?” I ask politely.

“He doesn’t need a Coke,” comes the reply from Cacee, one of the day regulars, who is sitting next to him.

She reaches protectively over him and takes a few fries. “He’s fine.”

“Okay.”

I go get a Coke and sit back down at my desk.

A McDonald’s apple pie hovers over my computer screen.

“Take it,” he urges with a smile. “If you don’t eat it, I’ll throw it away.”

I am trying to decide what to do when Cacee jumps up and intercepts the pie. She’s a big girl. She’s not overweight, but she’s tall, and she looks strong. I put my head down resolutely and get back to work.

After another hour or so, I’m yanked out of my concentration on customer codes for LCD TVs by Cacee’s loud voice carrying over the cubes.

“So then I was saying to my boyfriend, what was I saying, honey? Oh okay I’ll tell it, so then I was saying to my boyfriend that we’ve been together longer than..”

In spite of myself, a grin comes over my face. Oh my God. This is so childish. This is so stupid. Not only could I be his mom, I could be her mom. This strikes me as even funnier, because if I were his mom, and I were her mom, then that would make them..

I glance up and I see that Cacee has actually moved him over to another cube, on the other side of her, and she’s now towering over him, with her hand on his shoulder, while she’s telling some story, the point of which seems to be to remind everyone on the floor that He is Her Boyfriend.
Please. I am like one of those animals that has only one mate for life. I’ve got my mate, thank you very much. She has zero to worry about.

My smile fades as I realize that I have now apparently irritated a manager, and that she’s the only member of the day staff who now has me on her radar.

I sigh. It looks like the temps with parking tickets aren’t the only ones who have made backward progress tonight.

Tags: The Secret Temp by Paul // Add a comment »

Week Two, Monday Night

Building Lobby, 5:12pm

I walk into the building and then stop, confused, when I see the group of temps sitting in the lobby.

“What’s everyone doing out here?”

“New floor tonight, remember? We don’t know where to go,” says Heidi.

“Besides, it’s too early,” says Sara.

“Yeah, they can come get us,” says another.

I sit down, drop my bags, and look imploringly at Sara.

“I could use a Coke,” she admits. “I’ve only had one today. But it’s risky. They said our badges won’t work upstairs anymore. We’ll have to find someone to get us in, and someone to get us out.”

“We’ll find someone. Anyways, worst comes to worst, there has to be a fire exit.”

“I haven’t seen one.”

“Let’s just go already. We could be there by now. Anyone else want anything? No? Back in two secs.”

We take the elevator upstairs and, in our hurry, almost bump into a young guy who is buzzing himself out the door.

Sara smiles sweetly at him and waves her badge.

“Hi, we work here, but we can’t get in and out, so can you just hold the door for us while we get some Coke?”

“The drink,” I murmur as we squeeze ourselves past him.

The guy looks at the elevator, with its doors just opening, and back at us.

“Thanks,” says Sara firmly, locking her gaze on him, and he holds the door.

We get our M n M’s (me) and Cokes (me and Sara) in record time and get back downstairs.

“Any sign of Julien or Amber?”

“Not yet.”

“I think we’re going to have Amber tonight.”

“She’s such a stick insect,” I hear one of them say.

“She is a stick insect,” I agree. “It’s not healthy to be that thin.”

“No, I said she’s sycophantic.”

“What? She’s what?”

“Sycophantic. You know. Kissing up to the big shots. Saying what they want to hear.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Sycophantic. Definitely.”

I’m going to have to start giving Gen Y more credit. Sycophantic. Sick..oh..

I pour the first few M n M’s out into my hand, and pause in amazement. They are all orange.

What are the chances of the first five, no, there are six of them in my hand, what are the mathematical odds that they would all come out the same color?

“Hey you guys,” I interrupt.

“…applied for like, ten more jobs today and — what?” Courtney stops, impatient.

“Um –” I look inside the pack and see, to my huge disappointment, that all of them are orange.
“Nothing, sorry.”

They turn back to each other.

“And it’s getting to the point where someone will call me and I’ll be like, wait, WHO are you? And WHAT job are you saying I’m trying get with you?

She shrugs. “I can’t keep track of them all. I just keep clicking apply, apply, apply, so by the time they call, I have no clue who they are.”

“Don’t you do cover letters?” the youngest temp, Jenny, who is 19, asks.

“No.”

“Huh,” says Jenny, frowning. “Maybe I should stop doing cover letters.”

“You get way more done. I applied to ten jobs in an hour today.”

“Ten in an hour!”

“Yep. That’s what you gotta do, now. ‘Cause everyone’s doing the same thing.”

Julien arrives, smiling.

“Hello everyone. Tonight is the NEW FLOOR! Aren’t you all excited? You’re going to be on the floor with the day staff, and they don’t finish their shift for another half an hour, so you have to be very quiet.

First I’ll take you through the floor, so you can see the day staff, and then we’ll talk for a few minutes in the kitchen, which is your new break room.”

We gather our bags and get up.

For some reason I am nervous. I had just gotten used to the first floor, and now, everything was changing again.

Plus, I feel a bit in awe of the day staff. Those people have real jobs. They are full time, regular, salaried staff, and they are quick on the computer system, which I still found very confusing, and they’ve dealt with hundreds of difficult customers and situations. I haven’t had any angry customers yet. I think this has something to do with the fact that I sound like I’m eight years old on the phone, but still.

And how are the day staff going to see me? I’m just a temp. They probably won’t even see me at all.

Julien stops us again before the door and shushes us. Then he swipes his badge, the door beeps, and we walk in.

It’s a big, wide open floor. There are rows upon rows of cubes, most of them with twentysomethings from a wide range of backgrounds, wearing headsets, talking quietly and tapping away on the keyboards at the same time. It’s disorienting and I don’t feel like I belong.

We file past them, looking at them like they are animals in a zoo. Most of them keep looking at their computer screens.

We get back to the kitchen, which is a large, bright, white room that is empty, save for a few chairs.

“We’ll be getting more chairs in the next few days,” says Julien.

Most of us perch along the windowsills and look out into the darkening evening.

“So, that’s the ground floor,” says Julien. “What do you think?”

“Not so far to jump,” says a temp, still looking out the window.

7:05pm, Ground Floor

I finish a call to a customer and hurry towards the kitchen, late for the 7pm break.

I buzz the door to the hallway and stand back as a glamorous looking day staffer approaches. I hold the door open for her.

She starts to walk past me, then she flounces around in a dramatic turn. She fixes me with an imposing look and an almost flirtatious smile.

She utters two words:

“Your perfume.”

It’s said as a statement, but I know it’s a question.

I obediently tell her the brand.

She gives an almost inperceptible nod, a half-smile, and she swoops off.

She’s gone.

I am left behind, standing in the doorway, still holding the door open. I linger to savour the moment. And her fragrance, which smells good too, though I’m perplexed that I can’t recognize it.

Maybe I’ll like the ground floor after all.

After a few more seconds, I head on into the kitchen.

I blink in the bright glare and see that Courtney has a murderous expression on her face.

“I don’t know all the details yet,” Vanessa is saying, leaning back in her seat. She’s got her arms crossed behind her head.

“She got a full time offer too,” Heidi tells me.

“I’ve got a couple other offers too, though, from the outside, so I have to decide what to do.”

I feel slightly sick to my stomach. I know I should be happy for Vanessa, but two full time offers have gone out to temps already, and not to me?

“I got an outside offer today,” comes Justin’s voice. “From Disney Cruises.”

“Disney!”

“A cruise ship?”

“No way!”

“How fun!”

“What would you do?”

Justin’s eyes dart from face to face until he is satisfied that he has everyone’s attention.

“Dress up as a character, I guess, and entertain kids.”

“What does it pay?”

He tells us the figure. This considerably dampens the excitement in the room.

“Well, but that includes room and board on the ship, doesn’t it,” someone slowly says.

“Yeah.”

“Oh well then, that’s pretty good.”

“And, it’s Disney. Disney would be a great name to have on your resume.”

“Yeah, man, you should do it. You’re young, you don’t have any ties, you can go anywhere, see the world.”

“I’m thinking about it,” says Justin. “I’m considering my options.”

Mike saunters into the room and the temps stop talking.

“Did I hear someone’s going on a McDonalds run?”

Melissa and Courtney confirm they’ll be going on the second break. As she goes up to get his order, I see the smile on her face, and I hope again that he won’t hurt her feelings.

Then again, I couldn’t know how much trouble I would get into, tomorrow evening, all for saying yes to a few McDonalds french fries.

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Week One, Day Five

Break Room, 5:20pm

“Come on, Sara. Come with me. You know you want to.”

“No, I can’t,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re bad.”

“Please,” I wheedle. “I can’t go without you.”

She raised one eyebrow.

“It’s, like, around the corner. You’ll make it. Anyway it’s not even five-thirty yet.”

“But it’s no fun without you.”

“No. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Oh come on. How many have you had today?”

“Two. Two Cokes,” she sighed. “I’m such a Coke addict. I can’t help it. I’m a Coke addict.”

I see some of the temps’ mouths twitching but I take a deep breath to steady myself.

I train my eyes on Sara and I wave my wallet.

“My treat?”

“No! Stop already. I’ll get my own,” she says, standing up and slinging her handbag over her shoulder.

I practically skip out into the hallway, with Sara in tow.

By some logic that I cannot explain, I feel like I can have open season on vending machines now that I am Back At Work.

All of those sweet, sugary, bubbly, ice cold concoctions in those bright red cans…all of those crinkly packages promising massive bursts of energy and goodwill brought on by instant sugar highs..and up just above them, the shiny tin foil packages with those salty, crunchy, savory chips that would then, in about an hour or so, send me running back to the vending machines to start the cycle again with another can of Coke…

I swayed slightly in front of the vending machines, studying each item until Sara started tapping her foot.

“Do I have to tell you what you’re going to get?”

“No, no, I got it,” I said, digging change out of my wallet.

I dropped some coins into the Coke machine and pressed the button. I heard a satisfying clunk and I reached down, pulled out the can, and studied it for a moment.

Hello, old friend. It’s been a long time. Though if I’m going to be precise about it — you, Coke, you’re actually taking the place of Diet Coke.

Ah, Diet Coke. You had such a big place in my life, and for such a long time. For me, back in my working days, you were a long running affair. I couldn’t stay away from you. Of course, back then, you got around with every woman in the office. You slut.

But now…this time around…I’m older. I’m wiser. I now know, for example, that a Diet Coke cannot actually cancel out a pack of M n Ms. So I’m not going to kid myself. This time, I’m going for the straight Coke. I’ve made my decision. Coke, you and I are now officially an item. You and I, we will be seen together often.

I was fine with having Cokes at work. I mean, I’ve got to drink something. And I’ve got to have some kind of reward. I’m not going to slog here every night till 10pm without some kind of treat. It’s not going to be a problem. I’ll stop having them as soon as this job is over. I can do it. Honest. I don’t know how, but I know: when this gig is up, I will turn my back on Coke and walk away and that will be it.

On the other hand, with the M n Ms, I’m not so sure I’ll be able to walk away so easily. I really like M n Ms. And, they bring out the worst in me. I start doing things like ignoring the begging glances that everyone is sending my way as I pour the M n M’s out on to the table and then scoop them towards me, hoarding them like a chipmunk might hoard her nuts. Sorry everyone. This chipmunk isn’t sharing.

It’s bad. I’m not proud. I should stop.

I watch Sara buy a Coke.

I stand so that I am facing her, but I know that, to my side, is the vending machine with the candy. I already have the contents memorized, and within it, I know exactly where to find the M n Ms.

Here I am, you’ve already seen me, you know I’m in row E, number 4. You got that? Yeah, and you’ve already sneaked a peek to make sure I am not stuck in the metal loop thing so that I won’t fall out. Don’t you worry. I’m your old frenemy, M n Ms. I’m sitting nice and flat, in my slot, just waiting for you, waiting for you to give in and choose me.

What’s that? You want to take up with another candy bar, one you can give up when this job ends in six or eight weeks? Fine. I dare you. Go ahead, move on. What are you waiting for, you don’t even have to go that far, you could just go to, let’s say… F2. Look. Kit Kat. You like Kit Kat. Go ahead.

Just press the F. What do I care? It’s still going to make you fat. Press the F.

The F.

F.

“Would you get them already,” said Sara. “It’s 5:30, I don’t want Julien to see us back here.”

I feel my shoulders slump as the pack of M n Ms falls to the bottom of the machine. I reach down and pull them out.

“God, I could have just done that for you,” says Sara, pushing me back to the break room.

“I thought I might try something else tonight,” I mumbled.

“Yeah right.”

We sit down and pop open our Cokes. Julien has not shown up yet.

Steffi is regaling the room with her birth story.

“So then I was at five centimeters, and the nurse said –”

I lean back and take a long drag of my Coke. Oh yeah…it’s so cold and sweet.

My eyes flickered over to some of the temps, who were listening intently to Steffi. Been there, done that. I don’t mind the odd childbirth story now and then, but I’m a bit past the stage where that’s the badge du jour that we’re all displaying and comparing.

Oh — and it’s not all of us. I should be fair. We do still have one male here. Justin. He’s probably grossed out, hearing all of this. I look over at him.

Justin is sitting at the edge of the group.

Without warning, he interrupts.

“I got bit by a cobra.”

“Saying to push and — what? What’s that?” Steffi paused, confused.

“I got bit by a cobra,” repeats Justin, more loudly.

“A cobra?”

“When?”

“A while ago.”

Some of the temps look at Justin while others are still looking at Steffi.

“Um..they were telling me to push, and I …. really? You really got bit by a cobra?”

“Yeah.”

Now everyone is looking at Justin. He sits up straighter.

“You’re full of it,” says Courtney.

“I did,” insists Justin. “You can see it on You Tube.”

“You mean you did it on purpose? What the f–k did you do that for?”

“To see what it would feel like. To be able to say I did it. I tickled it, so it would bite me,” he says, and smirks.

“You’re out of your mind.”

“You are such a liar,” says Courtney, her lower lip jutting out.

“It didn’t have venom,” he admits. “But it did hurt.”

Someone coughed.

I eat my last M n M.

“So anyways, they were saying to push, and I couldn’t hear them because I was screaming so loudly,” begins Steffi, and everyone turned back to her.

Then the door swung open.

“Sorry guys, late start this evening, we’ll have to make up the time,” says Julien. “Now remember to write down everything you do, because we’ll be watching you. We’ll be watching you very closely. There are full time jobs, remember, people. Full time jobs for those of you who do well.

Oh and remember, starting Monday, we’ll be on the main floor downstairs. So this is our last night upstairs. Alright everyone, let’s go.”

I crumple the wrapper into a ball, toss it into the trash, oh yeah, nothing but net, baby. And vow that tomorrow night, I will try a Kit Kat.

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