Temping, Prositution of the Corporate world

Temping:

temp [tɛmp] Informal
n
a person, esp a typist or other office worker, employed on a temporary basis
vb (intr)
to work as a temp

Turns out Temping is better paid than retail (not by much, but enough for me to go buy those Croc boots which I swear aren’t ugly, just give me a chance to show you) and because I continue to be ignored by the world of Full Time work in an industry that I am dying to work in, I decided to give Temping a go. Since the beginning of the month I have taken on four different assignments, 2 x 1 day assignments, 2 x 1 week assignments, and learned about a whole new world that I never knew existed.

The world of the Temp.

Let me give you a little run down.

The world of the Temp is a place ungoverned by your average 9-5. You wake up at 7.30am with the hope that at 8am, someone (Pimp) will call you and tell you they need you at XYZ location, and the dress code is *blank*. You slap on some make-up, make sure you vaugely know where you are going and sprint out the door. On the train you wonder again what you are doing with your life, but the other part of your brain says “this is the last job, I promise you. We’ll get the money and then move to Florida.” You get to the destination, you make small talk, find out what the client (John) likes and what they need. You settle down, close your eyes, and daydream you are somewhere else (like at a real job). When it’s all over, they thank you plenty of times, and you shuffle out clutching your time sheet. You buy yourself a couple of drinks to try to forget the disappointment in your mothers eyes.

Temping is the Prostitution of the corporate world.

But you know what? I don’t hate it.

My first two assignments were in Film and Television production companies, and you bet your Chihuahua’s left nut that I worked it like I was on the sinking Titanic and had to get my third-class ass on a lifeboat. The one day gig was a bit of a bust, it was a monday and quiet as hell, but the week long gig yielded fun, a bit of professional networking with an awesome Aussie guy who took my resume and some new surprising friendships with girls my own age who worked in the company. Turns out some of them had been in the same boat as me and some of them even got their jobs after temping first.

Actually, when I started to look into it, Temping seemed to be one of the ways a bunch of people I know got their full-time jobs. They’d go for an assignment and the company would say, you know what, why don’t you stay on, or, why don’t you give us your resume to take a look at. It was kind of like a pre-interview. And hell with the number of resumes and cover letters I have sent off, any chance of getting into ANY company as more than just a name on a piece of paper is a big bonus.

So why did I always think there was such a stigma attached to Temping? I couldn’t even tell you. Maybe there is, but now that I’ve joined the ranks I just don’t care. The job market is so tough out there, and lots of people who want to do what I want to do are stuck in menial jobs, frittering away their youth and talent.

I’d rather wake up each day with the fresh and exciting opportunity of meeting someone that may assist with opening a career door for me, than be marking down sweaters for the third time this week.

End Rant

Pick a fight, any fight

Yesterday I had a conversation with someone who described me as Confrontational and always looking for a fight, someone who is always ready to stress about something.

Now this person actually likes me (apparently), and that hurt my feelings. They didn’t say it to be hurtful, and they were surprised that I had never thought of myself that way (Oh GREAT, now I’m so totally un-self-aware too?)

My family has described me in the past as someone who needs a project or some kind of thing to obsess over (my Mother has used an analogy of one of those Meccano cars…build it up, tamper with it, break it and have to fix it again. An interesting and disturbing analogy when you look at my life and relationships.)

But someone who is Confrontational? When I think of that word to describe someone, I think of a Jersey Shore character getting up in the face of some bouncer because he won’t let her skanky ass into a club. Of some tattooed guy roided up who stalks the streets waiting to get into a rumble.

Dictionary.com describes confrontational as:

con·fron·ta·tion·al

 [kon-fruh n-tey-shuh-nl, -fruhn-] Show IPA

adjective

tending toward or ready for confrontation: They came to the meeting with a confrontational attitude.

Do I think of myself like that? No. Do I go out to seek confrontation with people? Walk around with a confrontational attitude? No. I’m not the guy in the lift my friend Bryanne and I had to deal with last week (possibly high on some kind of scary drug, took a step into our personal space and eyeballed us because we looked at him weird? and then he shoulder-charged the guy waiting to get into the elevator ready to get physical.) I’m not in waiting to start drama.

Yes, I have a low tolerance for stupid people of which I have met a few in my time. And yes I will verbally pick them apart at the end of a day if they got under my skin (they don’t always, there is a certain amount of stupidity and general difference of upbringing/culture you can write off). That’s how I de-stress. I’m not holding a long list in my mind of people I hate, snarling and cackling and leering at my list with cold-hearted joy. I’m not out there shaking my grizzly witches hand in their face telling them how I feel. I’m letting out frustration so that I don’t punch them in the face when I see them the next time (don’t act like you’ve never wanted to punch someone you know in the face really hard with no explanation). It’s about venting, and then moving forward.

I’m sure there are things I do or say that irritate people, and I’m sure behind closed doors, those things are held up to the light and discussed. And I don’t really care. That is human nature, is it not? To discuss and shape with language and understanding the world around you?

If I thought someone had gotten totally the wrong impression of me, then I might be upset about it, because I actually do love people and try to be a good person. Those that know me know that I am a loyal and staunch friend. Sure I have my special brand of insanity, but we all do. Even the quiet ones (actually I hear those are the ones to watch).

I approach life with the attitude that when I meet someone they are a potential friend and they get 100 points on my scale. That doesn’t change unless they do something that makes me think otherwise. I know that there are a lot of people out there who come at life and friendships from the other direction, everyone starts at zero until they do something to prove otherwise.

Maybe my way seems like a glass half empty kind of approach, with negative points added to my opinion rather than the other way around. But as a result of this level playing field I have adopted when meeting people, I have been described as warm, generous and welcoming. I generally hit it off with people quickly, and even if it’s not love at first sight, there lingers an appreciation for the effort I put in to be nice to everybody. There have only been a couple of instances in my life where there has been an immediate negative reaction from me towards other people, and I can honestly say that in those cases there has been underlying issues on the other persons behalf.

This person has an intense infatuation with the person you are dating and views you as an obstacle to their happiness, that person isn’t interested in making new friends and snubs you immediately, another person has heard all about you and has made up their mind before you have even met.

We’re human.

I get it.

But as someone who has moved around a lot and found herself to be the new kid more times than not, my attitude has always been to welcome new people into my life. Sure, you won’t be best friends with everyone, but that doesn’t stop you from being present and pleasant in whatever social situation you find yourself in.

So back to being confrontational…

I actually hate confrontation. On the verge of it, my heart pounds really fast and my stomach shrinks. Don’t get me wrong, natures adrenalin pumps through me if it has to, but I could count on one hand the confrontations I have had in the last six months. 3 of them have to do with the recent visa issue and one was recently at a concert when a middle-aged woman told me to:

“Fuck off and go back to Yorkville” at a concert when she threw herself in front of me and stomped on my friends toes. She was clearly high on coke. We were at an Australian band’s concert and she was suggesting (with her insult) that we were petulant rich girls from the swankiest area in Toronto. I told her I was from Australia actually, and had known the band from my university days so she should watch her manners. She flipped me the finger and said “welcome to Canada”. I didn’t stop shaking until we were at the subway station.

What a wuss.

I spent a significant amount of hours watching the sixth and seventh season of ‘Keeping up with the Kardashians’ yesterday with my friend Kate, and while both of us felt our brain cells dying, it was interesting to watch the drama and confrontation that unfolded in each episode. I worked on a reality TV series, so I know how much of each issue was manufactured. No normal person can live at a height of intense drama and conflict, not like that, not really.

I also have been thinking about Kim Kardashian since I was told I was confrontational. KK is extremely loud and drama swirls around her life. That is what she is famous for (along with a GIGANTIC ROUND ass and a sex tape she made years ago (I think, who can even remember?)) and people still love her (even if you love to hate). People think she’s beautiful and she is worth millions of dollars.

So…….

What am I trying to say?

At least my life aint boring?

Well MAYBE.

End Rant

MUM MUM! I’m going to be on TV!

I am looking forward to Tomorrow morning because when I wake, I’ll brush my hair, wash my face (usually it looks like a snail slept at the corner of my mouth because of all the shiny drool marks), I’ll try to put on an outfit that doesn’t make me look fat or emphasize the natural redness of my face, and I’ll put on my clipity cloppy shoes, take my handbag full of grown-up things like keys and left-over birthday cake, and I’ll go to the TV studio where I do my internship with a happy little jiggle in my step. Because Tomorrow I get to film a reporter segment. That’s right, some crazy person here in Toronto is actually going to let me interview someone and (theoretically) put that gargled-word-spew on Television. Where people can watch it. People who haven’t been strapped to an electromagnetic pulsing chair with their eyelids held open.

Yay me!

In all seriousness, I probably won’t be that bad. I’ve done five minutes of research on the organization we are covering, and I even went to their website. I’ve read the media pack and I am good to go. How much more prepared could I be? Doing this uncut, un-edited 6 minute interview with children will be as easy as squashing my triple d’s into that bra I swear still fits.

It’s going to happen one way or another. I just hope it won’t be too painful.

No but seriously, I am so happy to have this opportunity. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m turning 24 next week, and for some reason I keep feeling like working in retail is crushing my soul and making me question if I’m doing the right thing being thousands of kilometres away from my family all alone in a random country that no one in my family had ever even thought of before I decided I’d never leave.

Oh I’m sorry… I didn’t mention that I’m having one of those what-the-hell-am-i-doing-with-my-life moments? At what point do we just give up and say “Paris you are not just having a what-the-hell-am-i-doing-with-my-life moment, you just generally don’t know what the hell you are doing with your life” ?

In theory, when people ask me about my life-plan, I mumble something about film and television and Tina Fey and riches enough to buy me a sweet purebred dog and an apartment overlooking some kind of harbour. And in theory, North America seems like the place to be for all that jazz, what with its massive amount of productions and population and all that stuff. And yes, you are right, technically I should be in LA or NYC but I haven’t figured out how to navigate the USA visa website without getting exhausted so SHUTUP I’m in Canada, which is like wanting to Keep up with a Kardashian but instead sitting in a room with Bruce Jenner trying to figure out how to find Kim or Koala or whatever the other ones are called.

In the last almost two months since that weird vortex called Camp finished and I came back and joined the real-world after a summer of living under a micro-scope and fighting about who got which days off, I have applied to probably 60 film and television companies based here. I have written funny cold call type emails and attached my Resume, I have tried to network with people I think might know people, I have literally not stopped pushing at that glass aquarium that surrounds the entertainment industry, trying to find a crack. And whoever did the waterproofing has surely done a fine job.

No cracks are to be found.

I did have an interview with a very big production and distribution company thanks to a friend of mines dad (oh did I tell you I didn’t know it was an interview and thought it was a meeting so…kindof just turned up totally mentally unprepared?) and even thought that went AWESOMELY I (surprisingly) didn’t really hear back from them (outside of it was great to meet you).

I know that people search for the right job for months and months, and its winter now and blah blah blah.

But give this girl a break.

I am hardworking and smart and I have a pretty great Resume for one seeking just an entry-level job… what is it?!

I need the Universe to unfold as it should FASTER. I am trying to approach each day as a learning experience, trying to keep faith with the old patience and trying to keep working and chipping at that old job-searching thing but LORD is it exhausting to try to contact 60 people and to hear back from 4, all politely to let you know that they currently aren’t hiring.

I’m not alone I know. I have two friends who just arrived in Toronto trying to get jobs too. And they are in Finance/HR and Business. So it isn’t like it’s just my industry. BUT COME ON! We’re girls and we need to start making some money so we can buy nice things and take our boyfriends to trendy restaurants. This isn’t the 50′s any more. A girls got to work it.

Thank god the internship I’m doing is still throwing challenges at me and making me feel like I’m maybe not probably trying to cling to the imaginary hope of a career in this industry.

So yeah, I’ll let you know when you can tune in. Hopefully the Canadians will be able to understand my accent.

End Rant

(Photocredit: Icanhazcheezburgers.com)

I’m going to jot this one down in “experiences”

Being unemployed has its suckyness and its awesomeness.

It sucks because, money is pouring out of your pocket faster than it is pouring in (worst). It also sucks because you spend your days tweaking a document that maybe, just maybe, you can fix JUST SO, so that employers will realize you are the fantastic, charismatic, charming girl you are in real life. You spend the day gazing at job posting websites, or kijiji, or hiking around the mall in your cute pretend corporate get-up with a sweaty grey file full of those pieces of paper clutched in your hands. You spend the day trying to convince people that seem to hate their life why YOU TOO should join their organization and maybe YOU could have the opportunity to hate your life too!

Then there is the sparkling hope, (this is the awesome part by the way) the idea that every resume and cover letter sent off or dropped by, could be the next fun thing, the next big adventure, the part that leads to the next part. Does everyone live with this same idealistic hope or just me? Who’d a thunk-it that a retail job where minimum wage is $10.25 in Canada could be so alive with potential.
Mama says: If you always do what you’ve always done, then you’ll always get what you’ve always gotten.

Wise words. I feel their invisible power tattooed across my brain. That saying is probably what drives my very existence. Well…that and that song from Pochahontas “Just around the river bend”… because seriously, whats back there? Gold? A kingdom of sloths? A tiny toy car factory staffed by midgets?

I digress.

I have been handing out a lot of resumes and cover letters that basically say “BLAH BLAH BLAH hire me for the love of god BLAH BLAH Kind regards, Paris.” And the truth of the matter is, if you hustle with some muscle (do we like that one?… I’m not sold on it frankly) then you are going to get some emails back, some calls and some interviews.

And thus, I have had all of the above. It is so exciting when you get an email back in the first 24 hours, you think, THEY REALLY LIKE ME! But sometimes those can lead to nothing and that second email doesn’t come back to you.

Then you get a call to come in for an interview. And so off you go, giggling with excitement, into the dark hole of the unknown with that little folder of resume’s your only flotation device.

So, a week and a half ago, I go to an interview, for what I think is a restaurant job. I go down to a very trendy part of downtown Toronto. I brushed my hair, I even applied some makeup (teehee, what fun!) and I wait in the very swanky plush restaurant area. There are three of us waiting to be interviewed. The guy interviewing us shows up late in a flap (by the way this mans name is Norwayne, a name I have never come across, personally) and it soon becomes apparent that the job is in fact a hosting position at a totally different club. The Norwayne man, tries as tactfully as he can, to tell me, that this job involves…scanty dress. I’m nodding along like, yep yep, tits out for the boys, gotcha. My interview is done in 2 minutes, I walk out of the building and Norwayne and I part ways forever.

Yesterday, I went to an open job interview for a new restaurant that is opening up. First of all, I walk into the place and it has a big blow up picture of a girl dressed in, what I can only describe as an Irish get-up that hooters would be proud of. Think mini tartan skirt, tartan bra, and tie up white shirt over miniscule tartan bra. Second, the picture has been dissected, as if this were a scientific drawing, with helpful hints like, “Tartan girls are always proud of their personal hygiene” and for some reason… a line pointing straight at this girls crotch. Or, a line drawn from this girls boobs with the hot tip “Tartan girls must wear the Tartan bra uniform. No other bra may be worn underneath”. I should have walked straight out. No miniscule tartan bra is going to be able to fight gravity and what I’m lugging. And third, instead of a sign saying “Job interviews” there was a sign that said “Casting”.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I still have secret aspirations of becoming an actress and having paparazzi trying to break onto my lawn, but…this is a waitress job, is it not? Lets call a tray wielding waitress, a tray wielding waitress.
I had the interview, surprise surprise I don’t have enough serving experience.

Time to start lying on that Resume….
End Rant

 

The Challenge of wanting vs doing

I haven’t blogged in almost 2 weeks and that makes me feel bad.

Blogging is always on my to do list, even when my brain feels like the melted easter eggs I found in the bottom of my desk drawer (and yes I still ate them).

I have a personality with a “type” clearly labelled. Over-achiever, controlling, etc etc. It’s all very interesting, (as you can tell by the way I’m casually skimming over the issue), but to live the personality day in day out – well…it’s rather exhausting.

Take for example the lack of blogging.

(Conversation with myself)

I didn’t blog today, or yesterday, or the day before. It’s cool. I recently took on the challenge of writing an article for a local paper.
Is it cool? Blogging was the one thing I was doing consistently.
Yes Paris, it’s fine. Relax.
Okay… but I should have blogged about something… like my first experience with Passover, or that car accident we witnessed coming back from Buffalo… or more lists of things I haven’t achieved (that was a popular one), or destinations I would like to travel too, or the failed planned Miami trip or-
I didn’t blog. Get over it. Or blog. Yoda says do or do not there is no try.

I’m kind of mean to myself. Harsh. Blunt. Actually that’s pretty much how I am with most people, except that I temper the things I say to other people.
And they don’t live in my head 24/7.

But it’s frustrating when your biggest distraction is yourself.
No, I didn’t have to spend 3 hours on Reddit reading every single funny post.
Nor stalk the wedding photos of a girl I went to High School with.
I didn’t have to watch the 2 new episodes of Modern Family.

I could have used that time to do something worthwhile, like go online and pay my bills. Or enroll in that course I’ve been meaning to enroll in. I could have done another draft review of the article due on the 19th, or connected with a family member. I could have gone to the gym, or done my laundry.

All the things I could have done… that I didn’t.

And it’s not like I don’t want to do them!

I want to build a blog with a strong following so I have some kind of writing to show for myself.
I want to pay my bills so it’s off my mind, and enroll in that course for the same reason.
I REALLY want to finish that article so I can send it off and feel great and not stress about it last minute.
And I really want to go to the gym so I have a banging hot body for Camp this summer (where I will spend every day in a bikini and shorts)
And I really really NEED to do laundry because I’ve been having to wear my sexy underwear on days I just want to wear comfies.

sigh.

But like all good members of my personality type, I go through fazes of mass productivity, and uber-incredible-indescribable slothness.

The challenge of wanting vs doing.

Blog: check.

p.s Sorry the picture at the top has literally NOTHING to do with this post. I was trying to find a superman sloth but…well google images just wasn’t playing ball.

Is there something wrong with me?

This week I have seen two films starring child actors in central roles.

The first was “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” and last night I saw “Hugo” in 3D with the boyf.

Both are based on books, and I had heard nothing at all about ELAIC but had heard rave reviews from boyfs brother about “Hugo.” On paper “Hugo” is amazing. It boasts some great actors, Ben Kingsley, Michael Stuhlbarg, Sacha Baron Cohen, Frances de la Tour, Richard Griffiths (who I met in Hong Kong a couple of years ago) and some cute, wide-eyed child actors, Chloe Grace Mortez and Asa Butterfield. Not to mention is is directed by Martin Scorsese and has captured the use of 3D superbly.

“Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” also boasts some pretty big names, if you’ve ever heard about a little old actor named Tom Hanks, and some woman or other named Sandra Bullock (I think she won some kind of award or something last year before he tattooed retard of a husband left her for a woman with a swastika tattooed on her forehead – mama would be so proud). Also when I saw the trailer of the film, my first thought was “Oh god. Not another 9/11 film.”

But here’s the weird thing and the reason for the title of this blog. Hugo has 94% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, and is generally accepted as a masterpiece of cinema, while ELAIC has a 54% rating, many people, like my initial reaction, questioning if 2011/2012 is not a little to soon to be dredging up memories of the “The worst day” (to quote Oskar Schell, the main character from the film.)

And how did I react to these films?

I loved ELAIC. I wept the entire time. I thought the cinematography was amazing. The script was tight. The characters were full-bodied, flawed and sweet. The scenery of various parts of NYC was visually delightful. The journey tore at my heart-strings apart, and then put me all back together with the final redeeming scene.

Hugo drove me a little bit nuts. I thought it was predictable, I found the main character aggravating (why are you always running away/looking teary eyed at people…yes yes I know you’re an orphan…AND?!) and I kept noticing sloppy continuity throughout the film, which fixated me far more than why the old man (Ben Kingsley) was so cranky. I groaned at some of the dialogue eg:

Weepy Child Actor: I’m sorry…it’s broken.
Gruff older man type, suddenly warmed by poor, brave little boy: (clearly talking about child) It’s not broken. It’s just perfect.

Boyf LOVED the film. “The best film I’ve seen all year” and was UTTERLY shocked that I was like… “meh.” So too boyf’s brother (a film buff and wannabe director), eager to find out if we adored it as much as he did. They have since both pronounced me fools, and although they deny it, I can see them re-evaluating my presence in their lives.

*Secret whispered conversation*

Boyf: Well if she doesn’t like Hugo, imagine what else she might not like!?
Boyfs Bro: You’re right! She doesn’t have the same judgement as us on this film…she’ll never be one of us!
Boyf: True… better just dump her now…oh? What was that? Yes coming dear. She’s onto us! Must go.

I love film, and although I’m lazy in remembering directors and actors names, I do view widely and have a very varied film taste.

My favorite Director is Wes Anderson and I most particularly love his film ‘The Darjeeling Limited.” But there are lots of other styles that have tickled my fancy, like Saving Private Ryan and Bridesmaids, which are as different as Metal and Moss (did you like that? I was going for something different from “Chalk and Cheese”).

I like to go into movies knowing very little about the film so I haven’t been swayed by my favorite reviewers or had my mind tainted by badly put-together trailers that give everything away.

So yeah, I was surprised by my reaction to Hugo vs ELAIC because I already had heard things about them.

I didn’t HATE Hugo as a film. There were a number of redeeming factors in the film, the visiting of early movie history with the Lumiere brothers and George Meilies turning out to be the cranky old man from the train station toy shop (very interesting). There is also the joyous and visually fascinating world of the inside of the clocks and mechanical devices in the train station which whir and click and are engaging combined with the wonderful time period (1930′s) and set in Paris too AND in 3D. Wow. But then that’s a small pet peeve – all British Cast in France, brummy accents, posh ones…It’s Europe…it’s close enough… (??!?!)

But definitely the major difference between the two films was that one had an actor playing a child with mild Asperges syndrome, doing an outstanding job, and then there was “The young actor in the title role (of Hugo), Asa Butterfield, (who) is a bland presence with a painfully narrow range of facial expressions.” (Joe Morgenstein, Wall Street Journal).

I don’t know, maybe that’s harsh, I didn’t act in a Martin Scorsese film at age 12 like Asa has.

Maybe (like my sweet Boyf semi-jokingly suggested) I have no heart.

But I don’t know. I weep in commercials sometimes. At certain times of the month anyway. And I would describe myself as a compassionate, liberal, loving person. So…

Boyf likened the story to Great Expectations (which I had to study in University and which I did HATE) so maybe it’s in the vein of that, poor boy coming up in the world (uhhuh…yawn).

Maybe I’ll give it another go when it comes out on DVD, but for now, too much cheese. See it for the visuals, but see Extremely Loud and Incredibly close for the storyline.

But what are your thoughts? Have you seen both? Did you have a preference?