Bah.
Just over a year ago I was living in Colchester with some mates, making ends meet as a temp desk-jockey. One temp job I had as a QA involved preparing artwork packs -- gluing colour separation details to bits of paper like a five-year-old, and preparing specifications for coloured inks required. Boring but bearable. I've had worse jobs.

Towards the end of the year there was less and less for me to do, so I was basically doing more experienced people's monkey work while they got on with other stuff. No task too menial; taking old samples to be recycled, bulk data entry, and if nothing else needed to be done I'd work in the archive, making space for the next metric fuckton of files due to arrive. Generally trying to stay busy, civil and helpful. And so it continued for a few weeks.

A week from Xmas I was told they didn't want my services. Why? Not, as one might think, because they didn't have any more work for me to do. No, apparently I 'wasn't particularly enthusiastic'. And being an unmedicated depressive with serious self-esteem issues, naturally I did fuck all to contest that. Not that I had a problem with being let go -- that's all part and parcel of being a temp -- but being bad-mouthed like that still pisses me off. Did they mention this at all to me beforehand? Any brief aside to the tune of "'scuse, Phil, any chance of you shaping up, you miserable bastard?" Was there, fuck. Cunts. And thanks to that the temp agency was quite happy to be shot of me as well in spite of previous jobs going extremely well.

I realise naming the company would be a bit vindictive and unprofessional, so I'll do that right now. Betts UK Ltd. They make toothpaste tubes and crap like that.

Back in Norfolk now. Gizza job. Go on, giz it...
(dungeoneer, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 11:11, Reply)