I was only there for one day, but that was more than enough. Each minute passed like an hour. I’ve never visited the toilet so often, willing the time to pass (only a maximum of 6.5 minutes can be spent wasting time going to the toilet - unless, of course, you take a book, and then people tend to come and look for you). I’ve never smoked so much either, just to get out of that oppressive place for a few precious minutes.
In an effort to do some work and earn the money I was getting paid (which wasn’t enough, I kept telling myself, not enough by a long shot), I did an audio tape by the side of the computer. When I’d printed out five letters, somebody bothered to come over and check I was still alive, looked at the letters, and said “Oh, these have already been done.” “What should I do then?” I asked enthusiastically, but they couldn’t find anything for me to do!
The two other secretaries in my ‘pod’ of tables gossiped nastily all the time - they avidly told me about the temp they’d had before who hadn’t done a single thing all day. I could well understand why. It was one of those places where you knew, without a single doubt, they would blame everything on the temp thirty seconds after she’d left the building.
Late in the afternoon, one of the solicitors asked me to deliver a letter to Companies House … I did it and enjoyed the freedom for half an hour, but felt like a courier or, worse, an office junior being sent on an insignificant errand - and I was made to feel that way too. I vowed never to return. It was possibly one of the longest days of my life.
