Worst. Job. Ever. Part 4: The Promotion

Wednesday morning arrived quickly—mostly because I had to be at the Marriott at 6:45 in the morning.  I arrived on time and before my supervisor.  My supervisor arrived, and I introduced myself.

Me: Hi, I’m Cardelia.  I’m working in the speaker room today.

Supervisor: Hello.  It doesn’t look like the room is open yet, so just sit in here for a while.

I walked into the employee lounge and took a seat.

Me: So, do you know what I’ll be doing today?

S: (Giving me a confused look.)  I’m pretty sure you’ll just be sitting.

Me: Oh, I was told that I would be doing administrative work.

S: No.  You’re just sitting there.

Me: Okay.

Some time passes, and I offered to check to see if the room is open.  It wasn’t, so I walked back.  As I walked into the employee lounge, I saw Cheryl, the head supervisor from Moscone West.  She was explaining to the Marriott supervisor that I never showed up for work, so she brought Michelle to work in the speaker room.  As I walked in, the supervisor pointed to me and said, “She’s right here.  This is Cardelia.  She’s been here for a half an hour.”

Cheryl looked at me with scorn and told the supervisor that she was surprised that I was the person assigned to this job since it required a special kind of person.  The supervisor told her that she thought I’d do a fine job.  Not knowing quite what to do, I just smiled and sat down.  As I sat down, the room monitor supervisor (who offered me the speaker room) walked in.  He and Cheryl had a tete-a-tete about me.  Once Cheryl left, he walked over and told me that Cheryl wasn’t very smart.  Sadly for me, Cheryl, along with everyone else, seemed to think I was a total idiot.

Not wanting to deal with any more insults, I walked back over to the speaker room, which was still locked.  There was a seat outside of the room, and I sat down, thinking it was likely my post.  A woman from the software company came by to set up a meeting in the room next to the speaker room.  As she stood there, she chatted with me, and it was the most refreshing conversation I had all week.  She spoke to me as though I were an intellectual equal—and I WAS.

Her meeting started, and another woman from the software company walked over.  I had a hunch she was my contact, Amy.

Me: Hi, I’m Cardelia.  Are you Amy, by chance?

Amy: Yes, I am.

Me: It’s nice to meet you.  I’m working with you today.

Amy: Great.  I hope you brought a book or something.  It’s pretty boring.

Me: Oh, I didn’t.  Hey, so the door is locked.  I’ve been here since 6:45, and I’ve been waiting for someone to open it.

Amy: That’s weird.  I’ll call them.

(She made a phone call, and we were told that someone was on the way.  Within minutes, Gordon (from the training session) arrived.)

Gordon: Oh, hi.  How are you?

Amy: I’m fine.  The door is locked.

Gordon: Oh, okay.  We’ll take care of that for you (he looks at her nametag) Amy.  (He got on his walkie-talkie and called the same person that Amy had just called.  Once he finished, he turned to me.) Oh so, (looking at Amy’s nametag), Amy, this is (looking at my nametag), Cardelia.  She’s here.  She’s going to be in the room with you.  She’s…

Me: (Interrupting.)  We’ve already met.

Amy: Yeah, it’s fine.  We’ve been talking for a little bit already.

Gordon: Oh, okay.  Well, she’s here to do whatever you need.

(At long last, the woman with the keys approaches.)

Woman: I unlocked this door already.  Someone was here.  It was unlocked.  That girl must have closed the door.  It was unlocked.  I unlocked it at seven.  Someone’s lying here.

(ed. The only person lying was her, seeing as how I had been there since 6:45)

The door was unlocked and we all walked in.  Gordon nervously walked in and glanced around.

Gordon: Okay, Cardelia.  Have you been in the speaker room before?

Me: No. This is my first day.

Gordon: Okay, let’s see.  You should probably sit down.  Ummm… (Looking around the room)  I think you should sit here.  (He moves a chair to the back corner of the room facing the wall.)  Yes. That’s a good spot.  Then you can watch things.

Me: Okay.

Gordon: So, do you know what you’re doing?

Me: Well, I was told I’d be helping the speakers

Gordon: Yeah, well, you’re watching the room.  Let me orientate you.

(I cringed.  In case you aren’t aware, “orientate” is NOT a verb.  It’s not even a word!)

Gordon: (Looking around the room, pointing at things.) There is quite a bit of computer equipment in here, and you need to make sure no one takes it.  So, on this table, you see these things?  Those are cables.  You hook up computers to those.  Over here.  This is a printer.  Do you know what that does?  And over there (he points to the copy machine), have you ever seen one of those before?

Me: Yes.  It’s a copy machine.

Gordon: Do you need me to orientate you on that?

Me: No.  I know how to use a copy machine.

Gordon: I should probably orientate you.

Me: No.  I’m good.  I know how to use it.  I’ve been using them for over 20 years.

Amy: Oh, that’s broken.

Gordon: Oh, let me get it fixed.  I’ll call someone. (At that moment, he sees the walkie talkie.) This is yours.  Do you know how to use it?

Me: I’m sure I could figure it out.  It’s basically like a phone.

Gordon: Okay, let me orientate you. (He picks up the walkie-talkie and points to the Red button.)  This is the button you push to turn it on. (He points to the GREEN button.) And this button turns it off.  After you turn it on, you dial the number you want to call and you talk.  (He then demonstrates on his device; however, he pushes the GREEN “talk” button to dial, and he calls Cheryl). Oh, hi Cheryl, this is Gordon.

Cheryl: (Who is totally audible because she is on speaker phone.) Hi.  How can I help you?

Gordon: Well, I’m here with Cardelia, and I was showing her how to use the walkie-talkie.

Cheryl: Oh, okay.  So, how is Cardelia?  Is she going to work for the position?

Gordon: (Suddenly uncomfortable.) Yes. She’s fine.

Cheryl: Well, I’m just asking because I’m just not sure.  We thought she might work, but I don’t know how smart she is.

Gordon: (Scrambling to turn down the volume, he mistakenly turns is up as Cheryl slings her insults, then he runs across the room.) She’s fine.  She’s fine.

Cheryl: Okay, well, you let me know if we need to find someone else.

Gordon: We’ll be fine. (Hangs up.) Do you have any questions?

Me: Nope.  I’ve got it all down.

Gordon: Okay, well let me know if you need anything.

Me: Will do.

Gordon left.  Amy looked at me and smirked.  I then faced the wall and tried to entertain myself with nothing.  Eventually, I asked Amy if I could run to the coffee shop to get some breakfast.  When I came back, I played a rousing game of Brickbreaker.  Around lunch time two girls came to relieve Amy.  At that time, I went to get some food.  While I was out, I picked up the newspaper.  When I returned, I read the entire newspaper.  Once I finished reading it, the girls started talking to me.

Girl 1: So, what is it that you’re doing here?

Me: Honestly?  I’m not sure why I need to be here.  I’m supposed to be watching the room.

Girl 2: But no one is in here.

Me: I know, it seems like a waste of resources.

Girl 1: Why didn’t you bring a book?

Me: I was specifically told not to. In fact, we aren’t allowed to have anything with us.

Girl 2: That’s ridiculous.

Me: I know.  But I’m a rule-follower.  Not only am I not allowed to read, I’m supposed to look like I’m happy to be here.

Girl 2: But it’s obvious to everyone that you aren’t doing anything.

Me: I know.  It’s kind of humiliating in a way.

Girl 2: I could see that.

Girl 1: We’re going to try to leave early.  

Girl 2: Yeah, we’re calling our supervisor.  If we can close this room, then you can go home too.

Me: Sounds good to me.

Girl 1: Why are you doing this job anyway?

Me: Well, I’d like to say I’m doing it for the money, but the truth is that I was bored.

Girl 2: (Laughs.) And you chose to sit silently in a room?

Me: It’s the grand irony of my life.  What can I say?  It’s just one of may poor choices that I’ve made in my life.

After about ten minutes, we were dismissed.  I said goodbye to my new cohorts, and I went home, vowing NEVER to do convention work again.

Worst. Job. Ever. Part 3: My Life as a Room Monitor

I rolled into Moscone West at 9:45 on Monday ready for action.  Room monitoring action.  I was a bundle of nervous energy.  Okay, that’s a lie.  I was just ready to see what the next eight hours had in store for me.

The first task was to sign in, once that was complete, I was sent me to my station—Door 217.  There I met my work buddy for the next three days, Jake.  How do I begin to describe Jake?  One word sums him up—simple.  Jake was a tall guy in his late 40’s.  He was wearing an ill-fitting suit and reminded me of the dumb mafia goon from any number of movies.  Our first conversation was much like every other conversation.

Jake: You must be Cardelia. Hi, I’m Jake.

Me: Yep, that’s me.  Nice to meet you.

Jake: They’re bringing out the coffee soon.

Me: Oh.

Jake: Yeah, we’re gonna have coffee soon. I bet it’s good.

Me: (thinking) Is this coffee for the conventioneers?  Because we aren’t allowed to drink that.

Jake: You drink coffee?

Me: No, I drink tea.

Jake: Oh.  That’s too bad.  It’s free.

Me:  Hmm.

(Time passes.)

Jake: I hope they bring out the coffee soon.

Me: Uh huh.

Jake: I’m gonna get some coffee. Hey look, I think they’re bringing it out. (Shouting to the banquet people.) Is that the coffee?  Yeah, I bet’s good.  (As the banquet people are setting up the coffee, Jake wanders over, takes a cup and brings it back to the table.)  Hey Cardelia, you want some coffee?

Me: No, thanks.  I’m fine.

Jake: Why not? It’s free.

Me: I don’t like coffee.  I’m fine  Thanks.

Jake: That’s too bad.  They have other stuff.  They have tea.  You drink tea?

Me: I’m fine.  Thanks.

Jake: Suit yourself

Within five minutes, the entire foyer filled with convention-goers.  We sat there.  Then, after fifteen minutes of sitting while they mingled, the sessions were called. People started piling into rooms.  My job was to scan their badge and make sure they had signed up for the session being held in the room that I was monitoring.  Luckily for me, the scanners were broken, so most people were being denied.  Being a quick thinker, I just let people into the room.  Jake, on the other hand, chose to tell people “You’re denied”.  Surprisingly people weren’t too pleased.  I also had the displeasure to deal with obnoxious guys that were trying to sneak their friends in and talked down to me as though I were a total idiot.  I felt somewhat demeaned. 

Once everyone was in the sessions, I had to return to sitting.  We weren’t allowed to have a book or any form of entertainment.  All we were allowed to do was to sit and look interested in sitting.  We had ninety minutes before the session would be let out.  Of course, at the ten-minute countdown, I did have a job to do.  I had to stand in the room with a sign that said “10”, “5”, and “0”.  Until then, I had to sit.

Jake opted to use this time for multiple breaks.

“Hey Cardelia, I’m going to the restroom.”

Fifteen minutes passed, and Jake returned.

“Hey Cardelia, I’m gonna take a smoke break.”

Fifteen minutes passed, and Jake returned.

“Hey Cardelia, I’m taking my 15-minute break.”

Fifteen minutes passed, and Jake returned.

“Hey Cardelia, you should take your 15-minute break.”

I returned from my break.

“Hey Cardelia, I need to stretch my legs.”

And that’s what happened all day long for three days.  He also insisted on eating doughnuts and drinking sodas, coming back to the table to give me his review, which was usually, “This is good soda (slurp)”.  At first I just thought he was an idiot and didn’t understand that his bathroom and smoke break should have been in his single 15-minute break.  But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I realized that he might have been some sort of genius.

During one of Jake’s breaks, the woman sitting at the table across from me came over to chat.  She was missing a few teeth—important ones…in front.  She was insane and allegedly finishing her PhD.  Another guy walked over to chat with me and informed me that he hoped this would be his last show.  He was awaiting his California Bar results.  The strange part was that he told me that he hated California and had no desire to practice law there.  When pushed as to why he would take the California Bar if he wanted to practice law somewhere else (seeing as how state Bars don’t transfer), he looked at me as though I were an idiot and told me it was because he went to law school here. I attempted to press on, but realized it was fruitless—and wondered if he was just telling me stories.

And that pretty much sums up every day.  It was mind-numbing.  In the mornings, Jake gave me the wrap-up of his evening.

“Hey Cardelia, what did you do last night?  I went home and called my girlfriend.  She’s really nice.  Then I ordered pizza and I drank beer.  I hope they have doughnuts today.”

In the afternoons, Jake would disappear for hours, and I was alone at the table, which, quite frankly, was preferable to having company.

Every morning I had to convince myself to go.  There was a part of me that wanted to ditch out entirely, but in the end, my work ethic wouldn’t allow me.  On my third day, my break finally came.

One of the room supervisors approached me, and asked if I wanted to do a different job.  I have to admit I was a bit flattered.  He told me that they needed someone in the speaker room at the Marriott.  According to him, it was more of an administrative job, and they needed someone that could work with computers and had a brain.  As he said that he looked around and made a snide remark about the mental capabilities of my fellow room monitors.  I agreed to do the job, and I was a little excited.  Finally I was going to do something.  And I would never have to make small talk with Jake again!

Worst. Job. Ever. Part 2: Training Day

Saturday arrived, and I donned my all-black uniform and found my way to Moscone West at 10:30 in the morning where I found myself in a pool 200 similarly dressed convention workers.  Of all of those people, who walked in at the same time as me?  The Foot.

Yes there was annoying small talk.  No I didn’t like it.  Yes, I did opt to sit far, far away from him.

The training session was called to order and we were subjected to what can only be described as the most poorly executed nametag distribution process imaginable.  You would think that a company that hires people to run registration tables for 6000 convention-goers wouldn’t have any trouble passing out nametags to 200 employees.  And yet, they did!

Once most people had their nametags, we had a short break and were herded into a large conference room where our minds would be blown by a killer Power Point presentation.  Our host for the rest of the day, and head supervisor, was the worst public speaker I’ve ever been forced to endure.  We’ll call him Gordon.

Gordon started his 4-hour speaking engagement by complimenting us on our uniforms.  He loved, Loved, LOVED the sea of black.  Nothing could possibly look more sharp and professional.  After showering us with praise, Gordon turned on the charm and the presentation began.

For four long and tedious hours, Gordon ran through the slides and read each one verbatim.  Rather than expand upon what was written on the slide, he felt that certain parts of each sentence needed to be highlighted, so he would repeat random parts of each sentence three times.  As he did this, he interrupted himself to explain that repetition helps with memory.  It sounded something like this:

“I just want to orientate you on a few things.  I have a presentation that will orientate you on all of the aspects of this show.  Please pay attention and feel free to read along while I orientate you.  People learn different ways, so you can listen or you can read.  I’ll orientate you by repeating things that are important.  So, let’s start.  The slide here says, ‘The software company develops many products that used by consumers and businesses.’ Now, because I think there are some parts of this statement that are important to remember, I’ll repeat it.  Feel free to take notes.  This will all be very helpful to you to understand what this show is all about.  Now, here it says ‘products used by consumers and businesses’.  Did you get that?  ‘Consumers and businesses’.  Yeah, that’s a pretty big deal.”

Uhh….needless to say, I wanted to die.  Nothing that he said was important to the job.  Later we went through the ground rules of the job.

1. All black uniform.
2. No eating of your own food and especially no eating the convention food.
3. No reading. No iPods. No cell phones. No talking.
4. You are allowed 2 15-minute breaks and 1 30-minute lunch break each day.
5. At all times, you must appear to be excited to be there. Doing this will make the convention-goers excited.
6. Anytime someone passes you, look at their nametag and call them by their name.

Gordon then went on to discuss lunch:

“If the convention-goers want to partake lunch, then they partake lunch in the large dining room.  Some of them may approach you and try to partake lunch in a different room, but you must tell them to partake lunch in the large dining room.  Now if any of you have your 30-minute lunch break, you can partake your lunch in the staff office.  That is the only place you can partake lunch.  Do not try to partake lunch in the large dining room.  That is the room where the convention goers partake lunch, unless they are part of a special session and are partaking lunch elsewhere.”

Have you figured out why my ears started bleeding and a part of me died on the inside?  Was it his decision to use the word partake? Yes.  Was it because he over-used the word? Yes, the word partake should only be used once a day.  Was it because he incorrectly used it? Yes, “partake” doesn’t make sense unless a preposition like “of” or “in” is used with it.

And this went on throughout the day.

While he was discussing lunch, the natives were getting restless.  I’ll admit that I was a bit hungry too.  I did get there before 11am.  At this point it was after 2:30pm, and there was no sign of lunch.  Some of the more vocal members of the crowd started complaining.

“I’m hungry,” whined the woman behind me.  “This is wrong.  They gotta let us eat.  When’s lunch?  I’m huuuuuuungry.”

At first her cries went unnoticed, but then other people started chiming in.  The revolution had begun.

Gordon kept talking about partaking lunch, then realized that the groaning crowd needed to be addressed.

“Okay people,” he said.  “It sounds like we need a little break.  Let’s have a 5-minute break to stretch our legs.”

“But I’m HUUUUUUUUNNNNNGRY!” shouted the crazy woman behind me.  “Where’s my food?  I’m hungry!”

“You can get food when we finish at 4:00.”

“What?!” She was indignant, and judging by looks of dismay that stared back at Gordon, she wasn’t the only one.  “But I’m hungry now!”

(Did I mention that these were all adults?  All adults that were older than me?  Older by several years?)

Gordon was oblivious to their cries, and we then went on our 5-minute break.  Once we returned he spent an hour explaining to us where people could partake lunch (again) and where the certification classes were being held--except he didn’t pronounce the word “certification” correctly.  Rather than stressing the first syllable, he stressed the second, and repeatedly said “cerTIFication”, thus making my brain hurt.

The training session continued with Gordon repeating the same unnecessary information.  He spent 45 minutes recapping everything, re-read the slides verbatim, and repeated random parts of sentences for no good reason.  It was excruciating.

I suppose part of it had to do with his audience, but, quite frankly, it was offensive to sit through a 5-hour condescension session.  Gordon wrapped up the training by going through the uniform piece-by-piece.

“Now just so we’re all clear, you need to wear a black shirt, black pants, black shoes, black socks.  Does everybody get that?  Black shirt, black pants, black shoes, black socks.  Everything is black.  Your shirt is black.  Your pants are black.  Your shoes are black.  Your socks are black.  Black uniform.  No color.  All black.  Do we understand?  Here let me show you want I’m wearing.  I have a black shirt on.  My pants are black  I’m wearing a black belt too.  My shoes are black. And I have black socks on as well.  This is what you should wear while you’re working.  I think it looks sharp.  The all black.  It’s nice.  It’s really professional.  All black.”

No, I’m not kidding.

At long last, we were excused, and everyone was excited…to finally eat some lunch.

Worst. Job. Ever. Part 1: The interview

Back in November I was bored.  I wasn’t working much.  I was sitting around my house watching daytime television and napping.  I was making meals of out goldfish crackers and Cheez-Its.  I have a sneaking suspicion that the guys at the corner store think I have a 4-year-old based only on my purchases.  This life of leisure was becoming problematic for me, so I decided to get a temporary job.  Why not?  I had nothing going on after all.  And, if nothing else, it would get me out of the house.

So, I went to my trusty Craigslist, and I found 4-day job.  It was convention work.  Not the most exciting work, but something I was more than qualified to do.  In fact, being a tour guide, I do quite a bit of work for conventions.  I’ve had a couple jobs where all I have to do is go to the airport and hold a sign.  Sure a tree could do it, but does a tree get asked out on dates by all of the limo drivers at the airport?  I don’t think so! 

Basically, I knew what I was getting into.  I figured I’d be a “human arrow” or something equally dull and unappealing, but I also thought it might be nice to get out of the house and earn a little money while I was at it.  So, I sent my resume and within an hour, they invited me to interview.

The next day, I got all gussied up in my interview suit and found my way to their offices.  Once I arrived, I hesitated as to whether or not I wanted to go through with this interview.  The street level offices in the building were under construction and were missing windows.  Most of the doors were boarded up and the company’s name was nowhere to be found on the directory list.  What kind of fly-by-night scam was this anyway?

I buzzed the second floor and a receptionist answered (for a different company entirely).  I quickly explained that I was awaiting an interview, the receptionist told me to walk over to the garage on the right side of the building where I would be met by the office staff.

As I was having this conversation, sloppy Santa-looking fella hobbled over (the hobbling was due to the walking cast he was wearing on his foot, so from this point forward, he will be known as “The Foot”). 

“Convention work, right?” He asked.

“Yeah.  I’m here for the interview.”

“Well, me too.  I’ll just follow you.  They said we need to go to the garage, so I think we should walk over here.” He points to the alley on the left side of the building and proceeded to walk toward it.

“Uhh…they said it’s on the right.”

“No.  It’s gotta be here.  This is the only garage.”

We stood there for a couple of minutes, and I finally decided to stop following this fool and walk over to the right side of the building.  He followed me, and there we found the garage and the interviewer from the company.

“You know,” The interviewer started.  “This is no way to start.  You can’t even follow simple directions.”

The Foot responded before I even had a chance to make a witty retort. “We were really confused.  We could have sworn you told us to go left.”

And it was at that point, that I knew I had to completely distance myself from The Foot (as if that wasn’t obvious immediately).

As we entered the elevator, the interviewer asked, “So, are you two together?”

Without hesitation, I immediately replied, “No. We both arrived at the same time.”

As we rode up the elevator, The Foot shared a little tale with us.  “You know, it’s funny.  I was at the unemployment office today printing off my resume and there were three other people there that had come to your interviews yesterday.  It was really weird how we were all at the unemployment office, and we were all going to do the same job.”

None of us found the humor in it, and I really started questioning my decision to leave the house.

Once in the offices, we were led into a large conference room with about 50 chairs.  One guy, who looked almost identical to someone that worked at the tour company, was sitting there.  The interviewer told us that he had invited 37 people to interview, so he wanted to give them a little more time before beginning.  The interviewer left the room, and we sat silently for a few minutes until The Foot decided to regale us with all of his knowledge and wisdom on convention work.

“If this job is what I think it is, we’re doing room monitoring.” He started. “The hardest thing about this job is that it is so boring.  You’ll want to die.”

The work guy doppelganger and I nodded and looked the other way.

Eventually, the interviewer returned and began the interview.  It was all pretty basic.  He gave us a brief rundown of the company and their client.  Essentially, they were a staffing firm that was hired by an event planning company that was working for a software company (who was hosting the convention).  He went through his philosophy and discussed the different jobs they have to fill (for this “show” and others that may come up in the future).

As the interviewer was going through his spiel, The Foot raised his hand.

“I just have a quick comment.”

“That’s fine, but please let me finish and I’ll answer questions.”

The Foot would not be shut down.  “Oh, it’s not a question.  It’s just a comment.”

“We—“

“I think I speak for everyone when I say I’m just doing this for the rent money.  This isn’t the kind of thing you do because you want to.  You just do this for money.  So I’m here to get paid.  There’s no question that we’re all going to do it ‘cuz we all need the cash.  Am I right?”  The Foot looked around the room, and all I wanted to do was distance myself further from him and announce that I was only doing this out of boredom because I already had my rent money.

“Okay, thanks for that comment.  I’ll get to pay soon.” The interviewer then continued. “Since you are wondering about money, know that we pay $11/hour for all positions.  There’s no negotiating that.  Now, just looking at how well you have all dressed for today’s interview, I can tell you that if you want the job, it’s yours.”

The Foot quickly jumped in.  “Oh, we want the job.  We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.  We need cash.”

At that point, the interviewer had us fill out “new hire” paperwork.  While we were filling it out, The Foot couldn’t help himself.  “Now I have a question.  My walking cast isn’t going to be a problem is it?”

The interviewer shook his head.  “No.  You’ll be fine.”

“Good.  I can move, just not so fast.  I’ve been wearing this thing for almost a year.”

“Well, it’s not a problem.  We hire all kinds of people for this work.  In fact, most of our recruiting is through the Sheriff’s Department.”

I gave out a little laugh thinking that he must be joking, but the look on his face, as well as, a quick glance around the room, told me otherwise.

We completed the paperwork, and the interview congratulated us on our induction into the exciting world of convention work.  We exited the building, and The Foot attempted to walk with me on the sidewalk.  He was doing all he could to keep up with me and talk about how he needed rent money, but I just couldn’t bring myself to slow down enough to walk with him for several blocks.  I told him I needed to turn on a street, and he then decided that I needed directions.  I graciously accepted them and sped off.

As I walked around I questioned whether or not I actually wanted to show up for the orientation training the next day, but knowing myself, I was already in for the long haul.