Diary of a Temp

6:45 am: Alarm goes off. I hit the snooze and open the door for Linus to come in and snuggle (he likes to be the little spoon).

6:55 am: Roll out of bed and lean in toward the shower. Getting some momentum going really helps.

7:05 am: commence the hair drying, makeup application, and dressing processes. When you go to work, it turns out, you have to match.

7:25 am: attempt to put in new contacts.

7:30 am: &*%$ing contacts!!

7:40 am: caffeinate and wait for the truck to defrost

7:59 am: breathe one last breath of fresh air before heading to the gray cubicle, far, far from sunlight.

8:00 am: get to desk, find massive pile of new, continuing, subcontracted, subawarded, incremental, grants to be processed.

Ok, so you’re wondering what exactly I do at this “job.” Sometimes, so do I. Basically, I do a lot of data entry and correspondence on grant applications and awards for the University. Often times I still have no idea what the project is about after reading the title, but that doesn't matter. I just have to figure out where the money is coming from and where it goes, using this scary tracking system with NO undo button and a binder of procedures heavy enough to defend against an attacker (ok, maybe only if the attacker was me, but that’s my frame of reference so give me a break). One of my gray cubicle walls is decorated with procedures, percentages, and formulas for the different types of research projects depending on who funds them and where they take place. I get to do MATH at my job, though I can’t quite figure out all the functions on the very old calculator at my desk. And did I mention that there are a LOT of acronyms at this job??

10:00 am: step away from computer screen. I have to set reminders to get more tea or go to the bathroom; otherwise, I forget. (“Um, guys, the temp peed on the carpet…”)

11:59 am: is it too early to leave for lunch?

12:00 pm: LUNCH TIME!

Because this office is so understaffed, everyone is overworked and hardly anyone takes lunch. I felt super awkward my first day, but have since embraced the chance for a quick nap in the space behind the seats of my truck. Nobody can see in unless they press their faces up against the glass, which is creepy anyway. This weekend I’m gonna add in some cushions and a pillow. Sometimes Albert comes to eat with me, too (giggle).

1:00 pm: return to a new massive pile of grants to be processed. OH WAIT, I never finished the first pile…

Thank goodness for Pandora. I’ve created a number of stations while working at different offices, but the one currently getting the most play is mainly comprised of musical numbers. I won’t disclose all of the titles, but there is quite a bit of Glee, Hairspray, and Lea Salonga. Pandora seems to think that my love of Glee indicates similar positive feelings toward Miley Cyrus and Hilary Duff, both of whom I’ve had to ban from being played ever again.

2:00 pm: cookie break.

2:05 pm: realized that the red sprinkles on the cookies turn my fingertips and lips pink.

2:10 pm: check clock and am a little dejected to see that it’s only been five minutes since the last time I checked what time it was.

3:47 pm: wonder when the last time I talked to a person was?

4:30 pm: One of the advantages of being a temp over an intern is that nobody expects me to stay late. Having been an intern on so many occasions and having natural workaholic tendencies, I’m accustomed to staying late to finish projects. But wait, I’m a temp! In 30 minutes, I am Out. The. Door.

4:58 pm: Some days I’m still chugging away on a project, which keeps things moving fast and works well with my ADD – so many things to check and process. Other days, when I’ve managed to finish what projects I have, I stare at the computer screen and let me eyes go unfocused until the big

5:00 pm

flashes across my screen.

5:10 pm: I forgot what it feels like to work 8 hours. I’ve also never worked a job that was required such little human interaction. I have to admit that the work I’m doing is actually pretty challenging, and requires keen attention to detail. I actually have the power to mess up contracts and setting mankind back thousands of dollars. (Ok, I don’t really have that much power, but the point is that these documents are important.) I'm lucky if I can put a sentence together after 5:15, and one night, I considered just eating a head of raw bok choy over the prospect of having to cook dinner. Speaking of which, I'm getting hungry...

Stick It To The Man

Being from a small town, our newspaper is often supplemented by this national publication called American Profile. Generally, it features fluff pieces like "Celebrities - where are they now?" and other feel-good bathroom-reading material.

There's also this financial column. I usually skip financial advice since I don't have a job or 401K options, but this article was brought to my attention by my mom.

http://www.americanprofile.com/article/37864.html

Dear Dave,

My wife and I make contributions to a company to help support children in Third World countries. This company has a plan where they make microloans to young entrepreneurs. It seems good in a way, because it makes them feel less like it's a handout. Still, I have a problem with the debt aspect. What's your opinion?

—Taylor in Little Rock, Ark.

Dave Says: Well, I'm certainly not mad at anyone who wants to help people in Third World countries. I think there's one big question you have to ask yourself: If you truly believe that debt is a bad idea, then why would it be an acceptable or good thing in a poverty-stricken society?

If it were me, I'd love to help people get entrepreneurial projects off the ground in a way that's a "hand up" instead of a handout. Teach them good business and marketing skills, too, and turn it into an educational situation where they can really pay it forward. I think most people who are decent and have good hearts turn into big givers when they become successful. And really, this kind of scenario is about the only way the microloan will work, anyway.

Everyone seems to think these kinds of loans are some kind of great, altruistic thing. But to me they sound a lot like miniature credit cards, and that's the part that scares me!

Oh no. No no no no no no. Oh HECK TO THE NO.

This guy gets paid to write articles on finances, and he's screwing over poor people by writing ignorant responses. I'll save you my wrath and instead post the more mature, but my-pen-is-my-knife response on the discussion forum. Here goes:

Dear Dave,

As a matter of fact, the best microfinance institutions have long incorporated business, marketing, and financial skills training as an important component of microcredit loans to very poor women and communities. Rather than place the onus of trying to secure a loan at prohibitively high interest rates from a traditional banking institution, microfinance organizations may instead offer a loan to a group of women who use a portion of the total sum to start their own business efforts, and are responsible for repaying a certain amount each month just as in any other lending scenario. In my experience doing international development work, even the poorest of the poor do not wish to be the objects of Western pity, and are eager to work hard to make a better life for their family.

Microcredit loans differ greatly from the voyeuristic credit card industry in America. We need to be wise consumers when we donate our money, and do the necessary research to ensure that our dollars are reaching the right people. I appreciate that the reader from Arkansas is being responsible in making a wise donation that is, in fact, an investment in women and youth in developing countries. Your response, however, clearly lacked the level of research a person in your position should give in response. I am extremely disappointed that a well-respected financial expert would share such an ignorant, uninformed opinion in a national publication and on the World Wide Web. THIS is how we continue to hurt families living in poverty across the world.

Taylor, Freedom from Hunger, based in Davis, California, developed the “Credit with Education” model that is now considered best practice in the field of microfinance. The organization recently launched an initiative aimed at providing youth with the resources and skills necessary to run a successful microenterprise. Please see their website, http://www.freedomfromhunger.org/, for more information.

...

...

I love sticking it to the man.

on a lighter note...

have any Ph.D students taken on the effects of facebook in the development of relationships since the site's inception?

I just heard a story yesterday about a guy who decided to look up this girl he knew in high school just to see what she was up to. He hadn't talked to her in three years. 12 months later, they were married.

Facebook has taken social networking to a whole new level. You can farm with people, throw pillows at them, share photos and journal entries, raise money for global causes, and live entire alternate realities from separate locations. It also seems to be THE place for important, life-altering announcements, specifically with regards to relationships. A rash of friends recently got engaged, and each one of them posted something along the lines of "she said yes!" or "I said yes!" illustrated with a number of smiley faces or heart graphics.

There's also the more "subtle" avenue of just changing your relationship status from a dropdown menu, which feels a little like ordering from a fast-food joint. This is one of the few places where you're not allowed to create your own status. You can post whatever you like for political or religious views, but you're pretty limited with relationships. Is this a preemptive strike at damage control from boy-bashing or girl-hating?

Probably smart, since I know I've been tempted to write some pretty snarky things in that box...like:
ha!
relieved
vow of celibacy
never again
sexually frustrated

Sometimes I forget that I don't have to be snarky anymore :)

Lighting My Own Fires

I've been trying to research slum burnings for the past hour to get an idea of the history behind this practice, specifically in Kolkata, India. From the perspective of municipal officials, the existence of slum settlements are an undesirable eyesore occupying valuable land in already overcrowded cities; while there is such a thing as "authorized" slums, where tenants pay taxes and rent, there are many more unauthorized squatter communities where families do not have access to basic amenities, including water, sanitation, and electricity.

There have been movements over the years to reduce the presence of slum communities in Kolkata and cities around the world. In India, a country that has struggled to promote their identity as a global power and modern country, slum residences belie the millions of men, women, and children living in abject poverty beneath the economic boom.

One strategy for development are "slum demolitions," where entire communities are bulldozed to the ground without warning. Illegal squatters, or families, as I like to call them, have no rights to the land.

This may be what happened in the Bidhan Nagar Slum in Kolkata. Nobody knows for sure what started the fire that burned down the entire community, destroying all of the worldly possessions these families had. Fires are fairly common in slum communities, where families cook over fires in ill-ventilated huts. Sometimes, authorities use this fact to their advantage - there is no way of proving who or what ignited the flames.

Brother Mahadeb has been working in this community, raising up local leadership and teaching classes in the newly constructed school building. I have met some of the residents of this community, seen their daughters dance and their sons dreams of something more than the life of their fathers. Today, thousands of these residents are without homes, and the community is shattered.

Mahadeb and his wife Rita are one of the most amazing couples I have ever met. Their love for God, for his people, and for each other is truly incredible and merits another blog post sometime. They are dedicated to helping the families of this tragedy in any way possible, but they will need your financial resources. If you are able, please consider sending a check payable to Good Shepherd Ministries care of:

MAHADEB & RITA MONDAL
327, LAXIMINARAYAN ROAD.
P.O. RABINDRANAGAR.
NEAR SHIBTALA PRIMARY SCHOOL
KOLKATA – 700065

They also need your prayers. We have a powerful God who cares for the plight of the poor so much that we must seek relationship with them to seek Him. Regardless of our financial situations, we always have that ability to give. As long as we don't let that keep us from action...

Snarkolepsy

noun: pathology.

a chronic social disorder characterized by excessive desire to lash out through extreme sarcasm and cynicism. Possibly emerges at inappropriate times; those afflicted may not even realize they are having an episode. Has contributed greatly to the humor in pop culture that defines today's TwentySomething.


origin: well, I thought of it last night, but it turns out somebody else already coined the term. drat. this, however, is MY definition.

Wanting to Be Her

When I was little, I wanted to look like Jasmine. I thought she was by far the prettiest Disney princess with her flowing black tresses, dark skin, huge brown almond eyes, curvaceous figure - and she got to wear a pretty sexy ensemble. Normally a very sharing child, I would sometimes hide the coveted Jasmine Barbie when friends came by to protect her from being damaged. Later, my sister and I would reenact the scenes from the movie with our now headless Ken (since Cory had thrown it out the window).

Of course, out of all the Disney princesses, she looked the least like me. I was reminded of this painful reality every year on the first warm day when everyone busted out their shorts, and my skinny little stick white legs were the scorn of so many jokes. Rather than bronze my body, the summer sun brought out the freckles across the bridge of my nose. And it did nothing for the rest of me. It got worse as I got older and more conscious of how much I didn’t look like society’s expectations of a golden goddess, especially once I started working as a lifeguard. I remember one patron coming up to me and joking, “must be your first day here, huh? You need a tan!”

[Actually, a-hole, I’ve been working since April. I’m on the swim team, I teach lessons, and I’m here all the time because I’m the head lifeguard. And I once got somebody arrested for diving in the shallow end. (True story.) Do you really want to continue this conversation?]

So it figures that I would eventually end up in India, surrounded by millions of women who look much like Jasmine. I don’t believe a more beautiful population exists in all the earth. Even women living in the depths of poverty looked to me like they could step off the cover of a magazine. I, on the other hand, had sweat pimples, flat hair, glow-in-the-dark skin, and constant wardrobe malfunctions (Indian women never get dirty or flash people on accident, but I did both of those things with frequency). If I had never felt very pretty before, this just amplified every insecurity l had ever experienced.

But in a bizarre twist of irony, my fair skin was highly valued and noticed in Indian society. I was stared at everywhere I went, and sometimes a lot more than stared at. It didn’t make me feel beautiful, just uncomfortable and even more irritated that I couldn’t fit in the community I so badly wanted to be a part of.

And then, I was blessed with one of those iconic moments that define the rest of your life. I was shopping for bangles to take home as presents; the girl at the shop – she looked about my age – took my arm and said, you have such beautiful skin. Taken aback, I looked at her more intently and realized that here in front of me was the spitting image of Jasmine, and she was even lovelier in person. So I told her that I had actually always wanted to have smooth dark skin and eyes like her own. No no no, she replied, I am so ugly. Too dark, so ugly.

It didn’t make me feel beautiful, just sad and disturbed by the colonization and multi-billion dollar tanning industry that had led to this very moment.

Both of us had been told by our native lands that we were not beautiful, that we were made the entirely wrong color altogether. We had been offered products to reverse the mistake from billboards high above, looking down on our inferior complexions. When these did not work, we took to self-loathing.

For so long I had wanted to be her, and when we finally met, it turned out that she had always wanted to be me.

my name is JM, and I have ADD

I can't believe it took 22 years for me to figure out that I probably have ADD. But it really makes sense.

For example, since I turned on the computer, I have checked my email, been on facebook, back to email, returned to facebook, looked up ADHD on Wikipedia, which led to looking up other things on Wikipedia, while keeping track of what's happening in the movie I'm watching, making tea cause I realized I was thirsty, and remembering the list of things I need to do before Urbana. I've been online for 10 minutes.

Er. This should have been obvious a long time ago.

But maybe, this attention deficiency is what has allowed me to do well balancing a crazy schedule. I can't focus on one thing for long, so juggling too many activities was actually a better fit for me. Maybe it's why I'm able to see problems and solutions so holistically in my mind - I see everything as connected, the webs of interaction spreading far beyond the initial issue of interest. I can't look at one isolated thing. It's also why it takes me so long to write research papers...

Like I start with one idea, which leads to another question, which leads me to wikipedia, which - SOMETHING SHINY - and then, all hope is lost of finishing anyth