My New Big Fat Temp Job

I realize just by typing the above words I may be jinxing things, but what the hell - half the fun of having a job is the stark fear of losing it.

So, yesterday I started this long-term gig. Having supervised temps way back when, I know the early warning signs that things aren't going to work out. Temp is in the office for five minutes and asks where the menus are, does he need a client matter number to make a long distance phone call, can he Xerox some fliers for his play, etc.

First order of business upon my arrival is plugging in my cell phone charger and enjoying the thrill of free electricity. Then I scout out the vending machines (new poem in the works, entitled: "Choking on Trail Mix").

For the first time in my life I have my own office (with two windows!). It is situated in the file room, a white cavernous space with rolling shelves that is right out of The Matrix. Thoughts: getting speakers for my computer; wondering why my log-in name is "Caratzax"; can I do this job without caffeine?

Day two: Arrived several minutes early, brewed some peppermint tea. Read from Matthew Rohrer's "A Green Light" on the subway up. Tried to figure out how far to roll up my sleeves (when I begin allowing my tattoos to show in a work setting that means I'm either relaxed or don't care). Must be vigilant.