Well, kids, it's finally happened. After just over a year of working for art, fame, fortune and generally being a slave, a SLAVE, I SAY!! to the Muse, I have become re-aquainted with the odd and delightful notion of "working for money". Starting Monday, I am embarking on a four-week contract doin' some freelance writing, editing and content management. I am very excited about this opportunity to beef up the portfolio, work with some very cool people (in an actual office!) and be able, once again, to pay for groceries. This job, however, does have its drawbacks. I have been informed that in this job, unlike my current "work", I will be expected to:
1. Show up every day.
2. With pants on.
3. Not refer to the women's washroom as the "ladies shitter".
I KNOW - tall orders. I just keep reminding myself that I have worked in offices before, often for years at a time, with few disastrous consequences. And really, any disastrous consequences I've experienced at the office were generally wrought from having been there waaaaaay too long. Here are a few reasons why I think short-term contract work is great:
· The contract is often not long enough for you to get bored.
· You won't get voluntold to be on the United Way Executive Committee.
· You probably won't be ushered into the cubicle of a sobbing friend who's just been fired and then have your boss tell you that you must learn your sobbing, fired friend's job in 2 hours before they escort her from the building with her stuff in a box.
· That guy you hate? With the eyebrows? Yeah . . . you won't be seeing him again.
· You won't become obsessed with some receptionist's stale box of Cadbury fudge fingers in the kitchen cupboard - you won't even know they're there! Because people on short-term contracts don't open the kitchen cupboard.
· People remember you fondly, 'cause you weren't there long enough to really chap their ass.
· You might get a new security pass to add to your collection for use later, when you become an industrial spy or when you do an installation piece about the life of a temp (I have several of these).
· If you don't suck, you might get a free lunch at the end.
In honour of my last weekday (for a whole month!) as a slacker-type, I was going to sit around in my pyjamas, eating ice cream and watching Buffy, but I find I am not in the mood. The sun is shining, the birds are getting run over in the street and I have a long-awaited meeting this afternoon with a rejector to discuss why, WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME and related issues. It's one of those meetings where I do care but feel I have little to lose by being direct. I tell you, gang, I am looking forward to it.
Before I head out though, I'd better hit the ladies shitter.
