Well…That Failed.

Over the past months, I’ve been thinking of signing up with a temporary agency, to at least make some money while I’m looking for something more permanent.

So far, actually getting to one has been an issue. I sent a resume to Valley Temps, and planned on visiting Spherion to do skills tests and drop off a resume.

I would get to where I’d pick up the phone to call the agency and make an appointment, and then I’d land an interview or go to an information session, or get thrown a bone of some sort about a more permanent job, and then I wouldn’t call. This was a thick-headed decision on my part. Apparently I have a problem about pining after jobs, especially if they seem like they will work out.

One day, I was driving down Hammer Lane on my way to a doctor’s appointment, I saw a sign for “Balance Staffing: Now Hiring!”

Now this sounded promising. Staffing=temp to hire, and that could at least get me started on an income so I wouldn’t be sobbing when my first loan payment bill came in the mail.

The next day I had to go back to the doctor to get a blood test, so I got up early, dressed professionally (including flats I need to wear Band-Aids to be comfy in, go figure) and went to get my blood test first. When I had made sure I wouldn’t look like a war victim when I left (two words: tiny veins), I drove to Balance Staffing. I walked in as confidently as I could, armed with a manila folder of resumes and a trusty R.S.V.P pen.

The secretary greeted me and told me to sign in at the desk, then grabbed an application and clipboard for me. I sat down and began painstakingly filling out the application, writing information I should know by heart at this point.

While I was writing, the manager called in another applicant to interview on the spot. My heartbeat sped up. Maybe I’ll actually get a job here! It’s something! I finished off the application with a flourishing signature and walked up to the counter.

“Are you done?” the secretary asked, scanning my application. “Oh, I’m sorry, we’re only hiring for production right now. I see you’re administrative/clerical.”

“Oh, really?” I asked, my hope draining.

“We’ll put your application on file, and if anything comes up, we’ll let you know.” She looked at the box for desired salary, where I had cheerfully scribbled “$15-$16/hr.” She rolled her eyes and said, “Oh yeah, and it’s $9/hr.”

I looked at her, shocked by her tone. “Okay, thank you,” I said, but inwardly, I was fuming. If the salary was already decided, why did they put the option for what you wanted on the application?

Frustrated, I put on my aviators and got in my car. Maybe an actual temp agency would be the better option.

I called one of my good friends from high school and asked her if she’d like to get lunch. I needed to do something before my mind turned into a disappointed tailspin.

“Next time,” I thought.


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