Temp on call

Now that I've posted about life as a classical singer, I guess it's time that I write about the "career" that has been paying the better part of the bills since I left college--my career as an office temp. If you were an avid reader of the former Midwest Princess (and why wouldn't you be?!), you were privy to some wild tales of my temp jobs. I've been to no less than twenty-five different offices in the Chicagoland area since June 2004; I've met a lot of crazy people, my "skill set" now runs the gamut from sales to gift wrapping. (My sales job acutally required that I do math. I hadn't done math since 11th grade when I decided to become a music major in college and the guidance counselor said there was no point.)
To put it midly, my temp agency loves me. And I love them. We're in love. They call me to go in and "fix" jobs that have gone wrong, meaning some idiot lazy temp they thought they trusted pissed off a client. Let me reiterate that this person had to have been a completely lazy idiot, because these jobs require no great skill besides showing up on time and being awake. So they send me in to be cheerful, cute, helpful, and restore their good name to the client.
Today was what I've now decided to name a "temp-on-call" sort of day. I was awoken at 8:30 am by the incessant ringing of my cell phone. When I saw that it was the staffing agency, I knew it was going to be a temp-on-call day, meaning that they've gotten a last minute "order" for a temp (like I'm a chicken salad sandwich or something), and I've got anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes to shower and rush over to some office that has a staffing emergency. It's as though they think I'm up at seven, dressed and ready for work...who are they kidding?! If I'm not working, there's a good chance I'm in my pajamas, drinking coffee and watching Oprah until atleast eleven.
This time, I've got an entire hour and a half to get ready and get to work. Of course, Nick has decided to wait until the last possible second to shower, so upon hearing that I need to get ready, he rushes into the shower so I'm left to shovel some Kashi down my throat and find something to wear that will be the least oppressive in this heat but still appropriate for an office. We fumble around each other in the tiny bathroom, he rushes out at 8:45, and I'm not too far behind him at 9:15. I grab an iced latte and arrive at the designated office a full fifteen minutes early.
You would think that an office would have to be in a state of total chaos to call in a temp at the last minute, as I expected the first time it happened. But this is never the case. I walk in to find a girl calmly sitting at the reception desk, answering the phone and taking messages. She informs me that she has a flight to catch and is leaving at noon for a four day vacation, which is why they needed to bring in a temp. Which brings me to wonder...this girl has obviously planned this vacation, so why in hell did they wait until 8:30 am THE DAY OF to call in a temp?!? Although my life is not incredibly structured at the moment, and I am occasionally available at the last minute, I do like to make plans in advance, for example the doctor's appointment I've scheduled on Friday afternoon, which I am now trying madly to reschedule so that I can be at this job all day Friday as well. It took me over a week of calling the office repeatedly to get the appointment, but it's hard to pass up a day's pay when I'm trying to save for a much needed laptop.
So there you have it, my thoughts on being an office temp, a necessary means to an end in the life of this classical singer.