My Data Entry Dream

I have an interview tomorrow. With a temporary service. Woo hoo. I know they will hire me right away if I want the job, at least thatís been my past experience with temp services. I want to do data entry, thatís the job I want. Second shift. They will try to talk me into executive assistant/secretary/receptionist crap, telling me how it pays more and Iím too overqualified for data entry. Iím not falling for it though. I want the easy job with the hours I want and I donít even care that the pay is crap. I want something easy and repetitive because Iím only doing it for a year and I donít want to have to wake up before 9:00 a.m. in the morning and I donít want to have to make coffee and I donít want to wear a business suit and pantyhose when itís 95 degrees (or any degree) and I donít want to answer phones and be fake cheery and I donít want to order office supplies and basically I donít want to do anything that Iíve been doing for the past 10 years. Iíve paid my dues and I am so over it. I want to sit and do the same thing over and over eight hours a day, maybe while listening to my headphones, wearing jeans and a ponytail in a cubicle with no windows, collecting a paycheck for my time. So pbltttttttttt.

Last night was spent at . . . Dullardís. Surprise! Before work I thought I would get a sugar cookie because sugar cookies always make me happy. Mrs. Fieldís Cookies here I come. One sugar cookie, one regular size normal thickness sugar cookie. Price? $1.79. That was with my fabulous mall discount. What the heck. That did not make me very happy.

With all the excitement of nothing happening in my life Iím not sure why I keep updating. Maybe thatís not true. Maybe I keep doing it because my secret hope is that a year from now I will look back and read this and remember how miserable I was and how far I have come. Thatís possible. Or maybe typing entries makes it look like I am actually working here at my desk. They all probably think, wow, sheís typing so fast, she must be doing something! 90 words per minute!

Still no apology from the Boss Man. Yes, I do fully expect that to happen along with hell freezing over and pigs flying out of my butt. I am dreading him coming back next Monday. As it is now everyone in the office just ignores me. I feel like a piece of furniture. An ottoman, but not a nice one, more like a faded orange and brown plaid ratty one in the corner of the rec room with one leg missing, a nacho cheese stain in the corner and a wet doggie and stale cigarette smell. Possibly with a spring sticking out.


2005-08-10 at 10:47 a.m.