This totally sort of kind of happened to me once. Totally. I was working this temp job, and they had a luncheon. I didn’t know about it ahead of time (nobody tells the temp these things), but my boss came around and let me know that I was indeed invited to take part in the festivities. That was nice, although looking back it would have been really awkward if they hadn’t invited me, and the entire office went into the conference room to eat catered food while I sat alone at a desk in the cubicles and did mundane button pushing temp work. So yeah. I guess that was nice…
I seemed doomed to encounter an awkward moment that day. Maybe it was because I was just the office temp and didn’t know too many people in the office. Maybe it was because no one had bothered to inform me of the luncheon ahead of time and everyone else had dressed nicely leaving me underdressed by comparison. Or maybe the awkwardness was just written in the stars.
I managed through the lunch alright. I made small talk wherever I could. I struck up a meaningless but enjoyable conversation with someone in another department. I tried to take small bites of my food to make it last longer and to keep my mouth busy. It was nice of them I thought, to include me in this luncheon. Maybe they really did like me. Maybe when my temp work was completed they would consider hiring me on full-time! I felt like part of the team.
But then the inevitable awkwardness arrived. It was decided that they would be taking an office picture. I felt terribly out of place and wasn’t sure what to do. I had been doing temp work in this office for a couple months, but I wasn’t a permanent employee. Should I be in the picture? Should I not be in the picture? Should I run out of the room and hide prior to the taking of said picture? Aaaaaand panic. I felt that no matter what I did, things were going to be awkward and uncomfortable. I was right.
My first impulse was to suggest that I take the picture myself. I’m not such a bad photographer. They’d probably be happy to let me take the picture, and then I can avoid any unnecessary awkwardness. I offered to take the photograph. But the camera owner insisted we could have it on a timer. “We can both be in the picture.”
I subtly expressed hesitation to another office worker. She seemed certain I should be standing in the picture. Why wouldn’t I stand in the picture??
There was no escaping now. Two people had already declared or assumed that I was going to stand in the picture. The door was way across the room. People were already beginning to stand in rows. Oh why hadn’t I made a clean break for the bathroom when I’d had the chance?!?
And so carefully and with great caution, I stood in the picture. Only then did one of the leaders of the office seem to notice me. My heart sank as I watched the confusion and alarm spread across his face. What was this TEMP doing in the picture?? This would not be tolerated. Anxiety flowed through my veins. I had made the wrong choice.
They took a couple of photos before I was asked to leave the picture. Yes. That’s right…I was actually asked to step out of the picture. I was declared unworthy for the office photograph.
I wish I could say the situation hadn’t bothered me. I mean really, it was a photo, who cares? Awkward situations such as this happen all the time. It’s not like I was planning on framing the picture by my bedside. But the truth is for some reason, I was deeply hurt by the experience. I remember my entire day being changed after that moment, and I couldn’t shake the embarrassment or the feeling of rejection. The fact that I was feeling this way over a stupid office photograph only added to my frustration.
I worked silently at my desk, trying desperately to will the clock to pass through time at accelerated paces. Across the room hung a bulletin board with office photos and a feel-good motivational banner that read “We Are Family!” The irony pierced through me and ignited under my skin.
I was sick of being a temp. I was sick of being a worthless and lowly individual unfit to be trusted with a REAL job or with REAL work or even with standing in stupid office photographs. I was sick of working for meager pay and without benefits, because I somehow hadn’t managed to get into the “full-time” club. I was sick of temporary employers telling me how wonderful I am or what great work I’m doing only to avoid eye contact with me and hem and haw when I asked them about being hired on full time. I was sick of feeling the judging eyes of friends and family who fancy themselves skilled at reading people, who conclude through their false and inept discernments that I must just be lazy, or lack the proper intellect, talents, or skills. I was sick of being patronized and treated as an unequal.
The days and weeks passed without further incidence. In truth, I doubt anyone in the office had even the slightest inkling of my inner turmoil on that particular day. The initial anger and embarrassment subsided, and I was treated pleasantly enough for the remainder of my tenure. The hurt I felt really had absolutely nothing to do with photographs, office luncheons, or even that particular office. But it had everything to do with self worth, and that was really the only thing that mattered.
Pings & Trackbacks ¬