My first diary was written over a year ago, though never published. There was a reason it had to be first. However, in light of my experience these last two days, that first diary will have to wait, yet again.
In July of this year I registered with a temp agency where I know one of the owners. He hooked me up with the person who places office help. Once upon a time I did secretarial work, and was an office manager in a couple of hospitality industry firms. And I can type fast and transcribe. That’s at least good enough for a temp position every now and then, right? Well, apparently no.
I’ve heard nothing since I met with her. Interesting, but it’s a tough market out there and I’m now in my 50s. Makes you wonder, no? It does me, but anyway.
Another part of the firm handles warehouse help. (Now note, this isn’t the only temp agency I’m registered with, just one of many actually, and I’m not getting any hits until this week, finally, thanks to another friend.)
A couple of weeks ago a friend of mine who works for a large woman’s clothing manufacturer told me there were some openings in their warehouse and call center. It’s about 20 minutes away, closer than I anticipated working. This is good. She told me to fill out an application for both positions, she would forward my resume on to HR, and for me to get in touch with their temp firm – the same firm where I know the owner.
So I got in touch, and was able to set an appointment for this last Monday to talk to the off-site manager for the clothing company.
She asked me if I really wanted to do this type of work, and I told her I’ve been looking for almost a year now, have lost track of the applications I’ve filled out on-line as well as resumes sent out, kiosks where I’ve filled in the blanks, and so on, and that I need an income or my son and I are going to be homeless. She said ok, you start tomorrow.
Shortly after getting home, the phone rings. It's the off-site manager, and the job now starts on Wednesday.
Another phone call from her the next day tells me that job is filled, but there’s another job, more intense and production oriented, would I be interested. Yes. She told me I start Thursday, the shift is at 7 a.m. but I need to be there at 6:15 for orientation. Ok, I’m in.
I get there just before 6 a.m., and the on-site manager (different person) doesn’t show until 7. The orientation was supposed to start at 8, not 6:15. Oops, they forgot to call me and two other women who were there since 6, waiting. Ok, so one hand doesn’t know what the other is doing. A bit unusual in a professional set up, but what do I know.
So she starts the orientation, and a half hour in another woman, who got the call about the 8:00 start, shows up. However, from the moment I met the on-site manager it was obvious she did not like me. It happens, and I can live with it. The way you get around this is keep your head down, don’t make waves, and prove yourself by doing a good job, right? Right. Our new work-oriented reality, called semi-serfdom, but whatever. Open and immediate contempt for the hired help is part of our new reality, apparently.
Orientation proceeded. I was polite and respectful, all with a smile. She really didn’t like me. I kept telling myself it wasn’t true, but hell, she wasn’t even trying to hide it. And it was apparently obvious to the other women who were being kinder than you would expect under such strange circumstances. But hey, we’re in this together already, and they’re sticking up for one of their own. It could, after all, be one of them.
Oh, and by the way, we’re not going to start work today – we start tomorrow, training at 9 a.m., not 7. Ok.
So she passes out the equipment we need in order to work there, and provides us with a little bag to keep our goodies in, and off we go. She had told us during orientation that if she felt anyone of us didn’t make the cut (what the standards are, we don’t know), she would tell us. And off we went, home, instead of working, like we were told we were going to do; none of us very happy, but what can you do?
I felt a little shell-shocked, honestly. I’ve never been treated so poorly by a professional in a work environment, but just kept giving myself a pep talk. She didn’t tell you you didn’t make the cut, so maybe you’re ok; that sort of thing.
By bedtime last night, no one called to say I didn’t make the cut, so I set the alarm, and was off to bed. Woke up, put on some coffee, shower, dress, care for my little dog’s needs, and hit the road. My first day of work in over 21.5 years. Yeah! I’m excited. It’s not a glamorous job, but it’s a paycheck, and I’m grateful. Yes, that's what it's come to.
Pulled in, happy to be working, approach the security guards’ window, and give my name. “You’re not on the list,” he says. Pardon Me? I wasn’t on the list? What? He asked me to look on a cart next to the window, where our badges were, to find the one with my name. No badge. Just the names of the other three women I met the day before. He called the on-site manager, the orientation lady who treated me with disdain. Then, while on the phone with her, he asked me if I was still at the phone number I had given her the day before. What a puzzling question, no? No, I changed phone numbers in the middle of the night. Doesn’t everyone? Then the red flag went up. I didn’t make the cut and she’s going to try to pull the old "I called you" routine.
I’ve never been in such a position. It was humiliating. She told the guard to tell me (she obviously didn’t have the guts to deal with me face to face) that she would make a determination today and they would let me know. I would not be reduced to a puddle of tears dammit – having been made of stronger stuff than this. I walked to my car with my head held up high, and my shoulders straight. Dammit.
Finally I decide the best route to take is call the main office of the temp agency and asked to speak with the woman I met on Monday, who said I had the job. She couldn’t talk right now, call back; she’s with someone and can’t talk right now, call back; she’s still with someone, would you like to hold – yes; we don’t want to keep you on hold for however long, but I told her you were holding and she said to tell you we don’t need you to report up there anymore. She wouldn’t talk to me. What’s that all about? And what's this anymore? I never got to report "up there" in the first place.
Then I let loose, as politely as possible, asking them if this is how they treat the help. And of course she understood, and has no idea what went wrong – and I’m thinking does she really think I’m stupid, adding insult to injury. And I asked if they ever had any intention of putting me to work? And she said why yes, we have lots of things available. I told her that I’d been registered with them since July, and have heard nothing, NOTHING! Then I told her my strong suit was secretarial work, and she said they even have some of that and I can’t believe the woman you first registered with (who places office help) hasn’t found you anything yet, and blah blah blah.
And this is how you’re treated in this day and age, by a temp/employment agency, even when you know the owner. Of course the owner doesn’t know any of this. I think it's time he does. But will it matter, ultimately, when you can get a yay or nay based on the power of one person who doesn’t have to tell you what parameters she uses to determine if you’ve made the cut? And then doesn't have to let you know you didn't?