Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Booty Call

I've been doing temp work for a major NYC financial company (with a spectacular view of Times Square, but an obnoxiously loud Puerto Rican co-worker) since last June. Upon hiring, I was told that they needed someone full-time, etc. Since then, I've been called upon between 8 and 57 hours per week... Sometimes I've been grateful to them for allowing me to make my rent that month. Other times I've cursed them for only calling me in for 8 hours (and for subjecting me to the Puerto Rican Asshole).

I suppose I should be grateful for any work I get...But last night, my pride kicked in. I got a phone-call from the temp agency at 11 p.m., calling me in at 8 a.m. the next morning to the above company. I was already in bed. I didn't answer the call personally, just listened to the ring and then the message.

After I heard the message, I questioned myself as to why I was feeling so angry... I needed any and all work, after all. Then it came to me: When you call someone at 11 p.m., it's a Booty Call.

I've got a Master's Degree. I've been working for you loyally and efficiently for 8 months. More importantly: You pay your regulars to sit around during work or no work, and you grant them benefits. Yet when "an emergency" arises... BOOTY CALL.

I ain't no Booty Call, you cheapskate motherfuckers.

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