Diaries of a Temp, Chapter Ten: Hollywood Hallucinations

Everyone, at some point in their career, has a grandiose daydream about making a dramatic exit from their current job. Whether it involves sending a scathing mass email or setting your desk on fire, we’ve all conjured up satisfying scenes where we finally escape the monotony and horror of our 9-5s. As I dawn upon my 8th month immersed in temporary employment, my exit daydreams have started to get more detailed and intense. Some of them involve me calmly sitting down with my current managers and explaining to them that I’m now writing for The Onion and helping Conan O’Brian brainstorm. I then quietly thank them for the opportunity and exit the building in a dignified, yet gleeful manner.

But lately, these daydreams have gotten a little more, shall we say, hyped. Thanks to dramatic and climactic finale scenes in most movies and TV shows, I’m no longer content to daydream in black and white. Now, my daydreams are laced with “Rudy!” chants and the Remember the Titans soundtrack. Although nonsensical and borderline hallucinatory, “quitting daydreams” are lifesavers for those of us who spend roughly 89% of our workday wishing we were anywhere else in the world. Not only do I encourage this type of head-in-the-clouds behavior, but I’d like to give you a glimpse into my newest, Hollywood-inspired quitting daydream.

It starts off normally enough. I’m walking into my boss’s office ready to say my final goodbye and all around me in the surrounding cubicles, everyone in the office is chanting “Donna Martin Graduates!” This overwhelming gesture of support gives me the courage I need and I knock on the door of his office with gusto. “Come in,” he says, unaware of what is about to occur. Suddenly I hear the familiar notes of the most inspirational song in the world, “The Final Countdown”. What’s even better is the noise is coming from a giant boom box that my cube-mate is holding above his head. And he’s wearing a trench coat. And he’s also in love with me. So this motion amps me even more and I decide to kick the door open. Upon entrance I look him in the face and say, “I’m not Josie Grosie anymore.” And this is where it gets awkward. Leave it to me to even have awkward moments in my dreams. He asks me to expound upon that thought and I launch into some tirade about “Finding something I love” and “Damn the man!” and other overused ideals and end with “…So if anybody else wants to come with me, this moment will be the ground floor of something real and fun and inspiring and true in this godforsaken business and we will do it together! Who’s coming with me?” Cue: crickets. And in my dream you can really actually hear the crickets chirping. But slowly, ever so softly something is happening in the background. The receptionist has stood up and started the slow clap. This quickly turns into the “QUACK” chant from Mighty Ducks and before I know it I’ve grabbed my purse, kicked over a trash can and am screaming “Ducks fly togetherrrrrrr!!” And this is the part where the phone rings and I realize I’m drooling on my mouse pad. But listen, in times like these if we don’t have our dreams what do we have? And thanks to movies, our fantasies of career freedom are enhanced with backtracks, one-liners and CGI. Happy daydreaming and please feel free to comment with your favorite “quitting daydream”. Hollywood inspired or otherwise.I’d love to hear it.

Rufi-oooooooo,

Temp.