Lumbering through the day

Within the next hour I'll be sitting in the Human Resources Department here

at the American Heart Association interviewing for the position of Manager, Editorial Development. Don't ask me what the title means as I'm not sure anyone knows, but it would be a huge step up from what I've been doing. The life of the temp has dragged on for over five months, and I fear that my legs have completely lost all feeling in them (toes maybe?). Moving from desk to lunch to desk and back home with little more than pay in my pocket has left me with an understanding as to what garbage men must feel like. Taking care of the important work but being completely overlooked. Also, being thought of as "just the temp" isn't too great to hear day in and day out. Especially when I receive mail and the postman they have here has no idea where I am, I have no name tag on my cube, so he brings everything downstairs to sit and collect dust until I'm alerted to their being there. If only someone would please think of the mail. The pointless mail that I will look at and throw away just as quickly.

Regardless, the interview's standing as "terrifying moment of shear

terrified...ness" remains true as I sit in my chair taking a break from the reports I've been compiling all morning. Copy, paste, copy, paste has become the day's mantra and the fear of that running into my interview still lingers. So, I suppose I'll just attempt to ignore my previous activity, ignore my increasing hunger (due to the pharmacy closing early last night and not opening until nine this morning), and the persisting cough and phlegm building in my throat to pave the way for the interview.

People tell me that I'll do fine, that there's nothing to worry about, but I

would have to disagree. There is plenty to worry about. After all, I'm a temp right now, with zero responsibility other than to complete the task for the day or week. Its depressing seated on the floor above where the rest of my "team" resides, listening to the new Foo Fighters CD and daydreaming of a new cube with a view of the parking lot. And maybe a plant or two.