I’ve finally ended a long-time temp job. It is bittersweet. On the up-side, it was nice to have a steady income and many of the people were quite nice to work with. On the downside, it was a night shift in which I ended up having many difficulties – taking the bus meant many times not getting home for two hours, dealing with dangerous people while alone on the streets and not being able to do things with my friends or go to events that I wanted to go to.
Plus, it was kind of depressing spending eight lonely hours in a windowless room in a deserted building filing all night long, having that strange feeling that the world was passing me by (and my co-workers seemed pretty depressed on top of all that).
The day shift, who I overlapped, were a much happier bunch and it was strange to watch the transformation of the place from day to night as it got quiet and desperate. One desperate man, kept following me, wanted to, but was unable to talk to me, instead he just stood there and stared. It started to feel scary and demented. I was kind of happy to leave that atmosphere. And yet somehow leaving – maybe some kind of Stockholm syndrome – has left me feeling sad and listless. It is strange how the scary and the weird, when seen from a different perspective, can seem normal or at least comfortable. When the demented becomes sympathetic…
by Linda Gregg
The almost transparent white grub moves
slowly along the edge of the frying pan.
The grease makes the only sound, loud
in the empty room. Even the rim is cooking him.
The worm stops. Raises his head slightly.
Lowers it, moving tentatively down the side.
He seems to be moving on his own time,
but he is falling by definition. He moves forward
touching the frying grease with his whole face.