Monday, June 18, 2007

crap



"Whatcha doin?"

"Work."

"Can you help me with my homework?"

"Doesn't your mom?...why don't you do as much as you can and then show me."

"I already did."

"You didn't even try."

"What's the answer to this one?"

"Well, what do you think it is?"

"Just tell me. My mom gives me my answers."

This was the first 3 hours of my day, with a six-year-old. The boss's kid had a half day and mommy had a meeting. Playing ball, writing reports, commenting on the differences between the first Star Wars characters and the second generations' set and researching companies. These are the kind of tasks that I'm supposed to perform with head-nodding efficiency.

I had done a lot of work for Soledad, one of my bosses at the company I temped for. I worked hard, and quickly developed a reputation for good work, a fast learning curve and an ability to take on all loads of work, no matter how much was going on around me. Quickly though, I realized with frustration that this woman was taking advantage me. Soledad was from Chile, and was a fiery fast talking, wiry blonde with cutting blue eyes and sharp features. She was newly divorced, newly dyked and always dramatic. She sped through the office on foot and talked with the confidence of someone who comes to a country in which they are not a native of and succeeds.

I knew all about her because of the personal records I scanned for her. Suddenly I was the garbage man of the neighborhood. Oh, you left these on top of the stack...the affidavit of your kid's nanny who says (translated from Spanish) that there was evidence of negligence on the hubby's part. Uh. Oh.

"Do you know a good real estate agent in Clear Lake?," She asked me one day.

"Well, I said I used to live near there, but no I don't."

"Could you find one for me?" she said, those eyes urging, demanding and asking.

Well, no. I almost did, I felt guilted by those eyes. Like it was my job to interview my Uncle Larry who lived there and tell him. "Look, I've got cray on line 2 she needs a good realtor, could you give me a name? Oh by the way, thanks for the candies you're wife, my aunt, gave me for Christmas. Does she know I'm 26?"

Soledad was like a robot sometimes, with the inability to either feel empathy or someone who lacked the capability for common manners. People don't assume that someone, who is a stranger to them, will automatically want to do their personal business, do they? Isn't that a pretty much standard operation? Get to know them before helping them deliver a court summons for ex-daddy.

She wore on me. I wasn't just her assistant, I was 5 other people's, but in her world, everything must be done the fastest and firstest. I began to loathe doing anything she asked. I could be totally bored and look with contempt in my eyes at the mere mention of a researching task from her email. I'd do everything she asked and she'd smile a devilish grin and speak to me in Spanish. Her rapid-fire Spanish was light years beyond my comprehension level, but she'd smile when I'd reply to her in her native tongue, even if it was an easy phrase.

It had been a rough two weeks, I narrowly missed out on a job, and a girl I was dating moved to Ft. Lauderdale. At the office, Soledad's 6-year-old stared at me behind his mom's legs. Her eyes and his were the same. "Martin, if you need anything Jeff can help you." Thanks. That's all I needed was some kid asking me a million questions while I tried to get in an updated media list to some other department by 12 noon. I always forget that younger kids have no concept of personal space, and how it is to be respected, so it's always a little shocking to have some kid hang on your arm, or talk in your ear, or hug your leg. Finally, the bugger was gone, but Soledad informed me that she was too busy to order food, but she was hungry, and could I order the salmon roll for her with miso soup, thanks.

Last week Soledad's youngest child was present when I walked into my cubicle. I eyed the 3 foot little beast with a wary eye. Was I going to be conscripted into watching this one? Luckily for me the young girl held the attention of the women in the office. A close one to be sure. I gave her a stink eye just in case she decided that my cubicle was a McDonald's playland. It's not that I don't like kids, I just don't like hers.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

isn't that a movie still from the 'the devil's advocate'?

if so...do have any more movie stills from that movie?

loud, drunken, exaggerated ha has....