I accepted an assignment through a temp agency, which had hours of 8-5, which is pretty standard around here. Unfortunately, lythandra
had some sort of conflicting need, the exact nature of which I've forgotten, that made it such that there was no way for both of us to be somewhere with the car at 8:00. I tried to call both the client and my supervisor at the temp agency to explain my problem, but could not reach either, and ended up getting in half an hour late.
Not a good showing for my first day on an assignment. I apologized profusely to the client, who said it was okay but who gave me "Tsk!"-ish looks all day. For various reasons that probably made sense in context but which I can't remember now, I didn't get home until nearly 10:00 at night, at which point I pulled out the business card of my supervisor at the temp agency and called again, expecting to reach voicemail so I could leave a message.
But no, instead, the supervisor herself answered, sounding groggy and terse. She explained that she had just got back from a trip to Venice and that she was exhausted and what the hell was I doing calling her personal cellphone at 10:00 at night?
Again, I apologized, but I was a bit peeved at this. What the hell was she
doing putting her personal cellphone number as the primary contact number on her business card, and then acting like I
was the jerk? However, I maintained my professional demeanor and explained that every temp agency I'd worked for in the past wanted a report on the first day of an assignment and particularly one in which something of note (such as being half an hour late) had happened. I then started to explain that due to schedule conflicts and the vagaries of D.C. area traffic–
That's when the music started, and she began singing. No, really!
Her: Caught with a flat? Well, how 'bout that.
Now baby, don't you panic.
But it's not all right
to call me up late at night
I'm not some Satanic mechanic!
Me: "Are you... singing 'Sweet Transvestite' at me?"
Her: "I just got back from Venice, and I don't mean to be a menace
But honey, let this be the end.
If you call me at home
you'll soon be all alone
You're fired if you try it again!"
Me: "...Right. Well very sorry, won't happen again, good night." *click*
Besides boggling at the peculiarity of it all, the main thing I remember is being impressed by the level of pure snark and that she had karaoke music for "Sweet Transvestite" ready to go for just such an occasion.
The next thing I remember was exiting off the freeway straight onto the concrete steps of a large office complex and wondering how that even happened.
And then I woke up.