An Attempted Screwing

Dear work:

You need to let me go because I'm a paid by the hour temp trying to eke out work that doesn't exist in your office? Or you just don't want to deal with my agency anymore because of the shit some woman pulled that dropped our entire server? I'm not exactly happy with that, but as I'm awaiting news of yesterday's interview and my agencies are still working to find me something new, I can accept that. I did see it coming a mile away, after all.

However, I do not accept you telling me that I'm done for the day at around about lunchtime and that you'll see me tomorrow, then calling my agency and telling them that you don't need me anymore. Because it looks for all the world like you're hoping that I somehow won't bother to come back to get my timesheet signed, thus screwing me out of ... okay, not much pay, as there hasn't been much work this week, but every little helps. Thankfully, my agency is staffed with pretty good people who rang me immediately upon hearing this and making damn sure that I knew that the contract was terminated and that I would get my timesheet signed and faxed out. Also thankfully, I hadn't even got on the Tube yet, deciding to wander down Leicester Square way instead, so I wasn't far from the office when I found out about this.

So I'm sorry if you were narked off when I barged back into the office five minutes after I left, rummaged through my desk for my things, double-checked my timesheet and then more or less descended on HR like an avenging Fury with a request to get my timesheet signed. Because, you see, I was narked off that you were too cowardly to tell me to my face that my services were no longer required, and even more narked off that you actively tried to shaft me out of about two and a half days' pay.

Regards,
The temp who tried desperately to get stuff done and could've been stellar if you'd actually given her a damn bit of work once in awhile.

Okay. I think I can be calm now. Yay for reasonably cheap net cafes where I can rant like a ranty thing. Here's hoping that I get that Harley Street job I interviewed for yesterday so I don't have to worry about this. The agency is really apologetic and is still keeping an eye out in case the Harley Street thing doesn't work out. I just don't believe that they would try to pull this shit. ...Actually, who am I kidding? Yes I do; they're the ones who, the last time I worked for them, called my agency to terminate the contract when I was sitting three desks away, thus letting the agency tell me that the contract was over by phone. This was half-three on a Friday when I didn't have my agency contact numbers, which really screwed me over for the following week, so at least this time I planned ahead. *grumblesnarl* Why did I agree to work for them again? Oh yeah; because I didn't realise until after the interview and frankly, I needed a job and was optimistic. Optimism bites.

Grumbly, frustrated and wanting to beat the living crap out of something. Maybe I should go burn some energy on DDR or something. I miss my computer, where I could go play some FFXI and beat the living crap out of some Gigas when I felt like this. Still, my stepdad emailed me yesterday saying that yes, the computer I picked out was fine, I had reasoned out my choice well, yadda yadda, so I should be getting it soon. And at least this does give me sufficient time to go get an audience with my GP - I say audience rather than appointment because all I need him to do is write down on the back of a passport photo that yes, I am who I say I am. Passport renewal - win.

So ... looking at the happy things:

- New computer impending
- Possible Harley Street job
- Seventeen chapters of 'Birth Rites' (new title of book 2) roughed out
- Managed to at least get timesheet signed despite the attempted screwing

...Still want to hit things.