Friday, March 25, 2011

The Diva

Apparently, I've hit the big time. My employer has gotten me an assistant. Well, sorta. This is a two-week stint for a temp, who will answer the phones and file, and nothing else, while I catch up on a few neglected tasks (the list of which is about to get longer, starting next week).

I gripe about the phones a lot -- I don't mind talking to people, and it's mostly a matter of transferring calls over the PA, but what happens is, I'll be in the middle of something that requires a lot of analysis and detail, the phone rings, and then after the call is transferred, it takes me several valuable seconds to ask myself that age-old question "Now, where was I?" and retrace my steps. Providing, of course, that the party I paged picks up the first time. If not, I'm interrupted by the "Deedle-eedle-ee" of the ring-back and I get to do it all over again. Providing, of course, that the object of my page is even on the premises. If they're not, I can either offer them the cell number of the person they want to reach, or take a message. Message-taking isn't a high priority in our office; we don't even have pre-printed message pads. Because of this, I tend to scribble randomly on the wrong size Post-it note and then have to translate when the person eventually returns from wherever they were (usually the bathroom).

I just don't like the interruptions. I do, however, like the overtime that comes from playing catch-up with the filing.

Even with that, the multi-tasking gets to be a bit much, and the people who oversee our branch want me learning more stuff, which I'm all in favor of. To take off a bit of the pressure, we have Beverly (not her real name).

There's a saying out there:  There's a good reason why some people remain temps.