(no subject)
My job is less than fantastic. I sit in a little corner cubicle all day long and do not have human contact save for the few times I venture out into the actual office. I hear voices all around me and have come to make little movies in my head. The actors do not look anything like the actual voice but, it is my head. I have become an expert in reading the underlying messages people convey. From their tone to what their words are whispering to the recipient. When I first began working, it was a hand full of females sprinkled with only a few males. Now over the weekend the males have sprung up. This rare species seems to be titled "Managers." And although they are the managers of my lovely little cubicle they are nothing to me but entities. I hear of them and briefly see them in the halls but they say nothing. They walk about with an air of solemnity. They are them and I am I. There is no linkage between us except that they pay me. As if my little cave of a cubicle is diseased.. or worse, quarantined; they do not venture back here.
They have given me the title of "Compliance Clerk," which is a fancy title for "girl that scans." It is all I do. The blue gray scanner that occupies more than half of my desk is my only friend. It reminds me of Little Shop of Horrors - in particular, the one scene where the giant ravished plant is begging its owner, "Feed me, Seymor! Feed me!" I have come to that conclusion because in my curiosity I have gazed into the hungry mouth that swallows my paper and spits it back out - there is a little brush that either allows passage or denies it. When it wants paper, the little brush lifts and it allows safe passage for the paper I am giving it. Sometimes Seymour is a bit impatient and does not allow me proper timing to feed it and it makes the most horrid noise. Much like that disgusting plant begging for food. Alas, he is my only companion and I must treat him with kindness. No matter how picky he can be at times.
As for my title of "Compliance Clerk?" I am to go thru the plethora of documents and folders this company has and basically input all of the data into this computer. I was fooled with the fancy title - if not, I would have simply rejected this job and have been content with working at McDonald's. It is free food afterall. But, that is not to say that there is no food in this office. Quite the contrary, my dear friend. The refrigerator is always stocked and they encourage the consumption of food at all times of the day. And rightly so. When one sits infront of a computer all day the belly becomes a furious beast that must be fed - and indeed they do, rather nicely at that. The sandwiches my co-workers make would put professional eaters to shame... And that is only the female half of this establishment. The groceries that are supposed to last two weeks barely make thru the first week. From then on they order out. Anything is at their mercy; from Japanese to Cuban to some form of home made cooking. Not like they mind - they don't pay for it.
I, however, get the pleasure of consuming numerous folders that can vary in size. I go through each document and decipher whether or not it belongs in the database. As interesting as it sounds, it is not. Every morning I awake with the same words running through my mind "I. Hate. This. Job." Every evening the same words run through my mind as if being displayed on that giant ticker in Time Square. I do not want to hate my job. But if I have learned one thing from this grueling week and a half? Do not be fooled by fancy titles. Always ask what the job entails and do not feel obliged to take the job because there are no other opportunities. There are always other opportunities. Wish I would have known that three weeks ago when I accepted this job.
They have given me the title of "Compliance Clerk," which is a fancy title for "girl that scans." It is all I do. The blue gray scanner that occupies more than half of my desk is my only friend. It reminds me of Little Shop of Horrors - in particular, the one scene where the giant ravished plant is begging its owner, "Feed me, Seymor! Feed me!" I have come to that conclusion because in my curiosity I have gazed into the hungry mouth that swallows my paper and spits it back out - there is a little brush that either allows passage or denies it. When it wants paper, the little brush lifts and it allows safe passage for the paper I am giving it. Sometimes Seymour is a bit impatient and does not allow me proper timing to feed it and it makes the most horrid noise. Much like that disgusting plant begging for food. Alas, he is my only companion and I must treat him with kindness. No matter how picky he can be at times.
As for my title of "Compliance Clerk?" I am to go thru the plethora of documents and folders this company has and basically input all of the data into this computer. I was fooled with the fancy title - if not, I would have simply rejected this job and have been content with working at McDonald's. It is free food afterall. But, that is not to say that there is no food in this office. Quite the contrary, my dear friend. The refrigerator is always stocked and they encourage the consumption of food at all times of the day. And rightly so. When one sits infront of a computer all day the belly becomes a furious beast that must be fed - and indeed they do, rather nicely at that. The sandwiches my co-workers make would put professional eaters to shame... And that is only the female half of this establishment. The groceries that are supposed to last two weeks barely make thru the first week. From then on they order out. Anything is at their mercy; from Japanese to Cuban to some form of home made cooking. Not like they mind - they don't pay for it.
I, however, get the pleasure of consuming numerous folders that can vary in size. I go through each document and decipher whether or not it belongs in the database. As interesting as it sounds, it is not. Every morning I awake with the same words running through my mind "I. Hate. This. Job." Every evening the same words run through my mind as if being displayed on that giant ticker in Time Square. I do not want to hate my job. But if I have learned one thing from this grueling week and a half? Do not be fooled by fancy titles. Always ask what the job entails and do not feel obliged to take the job because there are no other opportunities. There are always other opportunities. Wish I would have known that three weeks ago when I accepted this job.