i miss the temp job i hated

So I got a phone call yesterday (Sunday) morning before I even woke up telling me that my temp "assignment" was "completed" and I shouldn't show up to work today. Great. Really Fucking Great. Thanks for telling me this on FRIDAY, when I could have done something about it, like call my other temp agencies and casting agency and try to line something up for this week. But instead, I am sitting here in my apartment not working, wondering how I'm going to pay $625 rent for next month with no money in my bank account.

Not that i'll miss that job at all. I was answering phones for a publishing company, specifically for 3 of their specialized magazines about cars. If you know me, you will find this humorous because there is probably nothing on earth that I am less interested in than cars and car parts, with the possible exception of publications devoted entirely to cars and car parts. And for some unknown reason (okay, it’s probably pretty obvious), it seems as though the only people who call obscure car magazines are red-state redneck hicks with an IQ range of inanimate object to single-celled organism. Sorry for the descriptive redundancy. Anyway, this is how one, sadly typical phone call went down:

Me: “Good morning, (name of car magazine), how may I help you?”
Red-state redneck hick: “Hi, my name is BillyJoeBob [or something to that effect] and I’m calling from Hicksville, Kentucky [or someplace like that].”At this point they always pause, like I’m somehow supposed to have a reaction to this information. Little do they know that I don’t give a fuck what their name is or where they’re calling from and the only information I need is who they want to talk to, which, ironically they NEVER know.
Me: [Rolling eyes] “Okay…”
RSRH: “Well I was reading an issue of (car magazine) from 1983 about (some kind of car or car part, I can’t even tell and don’t care).” Pause.
Me: “Um, yeah?”
RSRH: “Well I was wondering if I can talk to someone about it?”
Me: “Okay, do you have the name of the person who wrote the article?”
RSRH: “Oh… no, I don’t know who wrote it.”
Me: [Banging head against computer monitor] “So you’d like to talk to someone, but you don’t know who, about an article that was written over 20 years ago?”
RSRH: “Yeah.”
Me: [Super-extreme eye-roll that I reserve for special occasions] “Okay, let me transfer you to someone.” Punch a random extension into the phone and make a silent mental apology to whoever has to deal with this guy next.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I think that there is an obvious lesson to be learned from this experience that was my life 8 ½ hours per day, 5 days per week (which i now actually MISS), and that lesson is: never graduate from college.