A Temp's Life... (11.08.06)
In the last couple of weeks I have been temping, with middling success, for a number of organisations with whom I always imagined I'd never want to have any association.
Immediately (well, as good as) after leaving the NHS I was called upon to hold the fort for a lovely PA at the Department of Health. In the Commercial Directorate. For those not in the know, they're the ones hell-bent on privatising the NHS. I could say more, but for the fact that a) then I'd have to kill you (or they'd have to kill me - I signed the Official Secrets Act, don't you know... aside - that's much less impressive than it sounds, disappointingly) and b) I don't really know any more. You pick up irritatingly little when you're only there for a couple of weeks, and you understand even less.
Then there was a week of waiting (or, as I like to call it, watching home improvement shows on UKTV Bright Ideas) and suddenly I was summoned to a well known multinational company specialising in fuel. Now, anyone who's ever seen me in my favourite wolly hat can imagine how this sat with my tree-hugging sensibilities. But, where there's a bill, there's a way, and at the end of the day their money is green, even if very little else about them is...
...or so I thought. Turns out that they run the most environmentally cool office I've been in for a long while - they recycle absolutely everything. Even the bins for your lunch waste are multiple, so everythng is divided. Office lighting (for the smaller rooms and meeting rooms) is operated by motion and light sensors. Even the milk at the coffee areas is supplied in single pint cartons, so as to reduce wastage. Every person's desk has a paper recycling tray that gets cleared daily. It's all very sustainable (as far as I can tell). Perhaps I shouldn't judge a company by its industry.
Of course, this doesn't change the fact that part of my handover was instructions of how to charter a private jet. Or that there's a concierge downstairs willing to get my shoes re-heeled, or to pop out to grab me something from Harrods (though not from the sale, darling). But maybe there's just a little bit of me that likes all that corporate thang? Perhaps, deep inside, there's the shadow of an executive whore stamping her foot and demanding to be let out...
One of my perks (as I'll be working late shifts and past 8pm) is a car to take me home each night. Not as amazing as you might think - when I worked at a certain investmant bank in Canary Wharf I got the same thing - work late, get chauffered home. Sorry, what was that? Long hours culture?
It's a different world, isn't it?
Speaking of different worlds, I've been immersing myself in a few in order to pass my time spent in the back of executive limousines. I was really quite enchanted by pre-war Japan, and was suitably diverted by modern day London. The one that I adored, however, defies categorisation - eternal Chicago. And from the sublime to the just plain weird, this is what I'm reading now.
Immediately (well, as good as) after leaving the NHS I was called upon to hold the fort for a lovely PA at the Department of Health. In the Commercial Directorate. For those not in the know, they're the ones hell-bent on privatising the NHS. I could say more, but for the fact that a) then I'd have to kill you (or they'd have to kill me - I signed the Official Secrets Act, don't you know... aside - that's much less impressive than it sounds, disappointingly) and b) I don't really know any more. You pick up irritatingly little when you're only there for a couple of weeks, and you understand even less.
Then there was a week of waiting (or, as I like to call it, watching home improvement shows on UKTV Bright Ideas) and suddenly I was summoned to a well known multinational company specialising in fuel. Now, anyone who's ever seen me in my favourite wolly hat can imagine how this sat with my tree-hugging sensibilities. But, where there's a bill, there's a way, and at the end of the day their money is green, even if very little else about them is...
...or so I thought. Turns out that they run the most environmentally cool office I've been in for a long while - they recycle absolutely everything. Even the bins for your lunch waste are multiple, so everythng is divided. Office lighting (for the smaller rooms and meeting rooms) is operated by motion and light sensors. Even the milk at the coffee areas is supplied in single pint cartons, so as to reduce wastage. Every person's desk has a paper recycling tray that gets cleared daily. It's all very sustainable (as far as I can tell). Perhaps I shouldn't judge a company by its industry.
Of course, this doesn't change the fact that part of my handover was instructions of how to charter a private jet. Or that there's a concierge downstairs willing to get my shoes re-heeled, or to pop out to grab me something from Harrods (though not from the sale, darling). But maybe there's just a little bit of me that likes all that corporate thang? Perhaps, deep inside, there's the shadow of an executive whore stamping her foot and demanding to be let out...
One of my perks (as I'll be working late shifts and past 8pm) is a car to take me home each night. Not as amazing as you might think - when I worked at a certain investmant bank in Canary Wharf I got the same thing - work late, get chauffered home. Sorry, what was that? Long hours culture?
It's a different world, isn't it?
Speaking of different worlds, I've been immersing myself in a few in order to pass my time spent in the back of executive limousines. I was really quite enchanted by pre-war Japan, and was suitably diverted by modern day London. The one that I adored, however, defies categorisation - eternal Chicago. And from the sublime to the just plain weird, this is what I'm reading now.
posted by Tegwen at 17:00
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