Working for corporate is not how I thought it would be. The workplace seems to be designed by child-me: It looks more like a college campus than company property, with a huge sports complex and beach volleyball -- except no one's skipping to play Frisbee in the lawn. And -- is that a treehouse? Seriously, there are two men in suits and ties having a lunch meeting in a treehouse. Or treeoffice. Nope, it's actually called the treehouse, which means I wasn't just seeing what I wanted to.
Soon everyone hates me because my job is to fire their employees. Well, their contingent workers, anyway. They only hate me over the phone, so I don't mind. It just seems odd that they would be so upset to lose a worker who physically assaulted his boss the last time he worked for us.
Since I'm in HR, people are always asking me to get them a job. The funny thing is that I am contingent labor myself -- even though my job is to fire people, technically I am not even an employee of the company. So stop asking me; I can't even get myself a job! But if you do get a job here, I can take it away.
After awhile the daily tedium of two hours of spreadsheets and six hours of busywork in a tiny room with no windows begins to take its toll. Although the life has been sucked out of me until I am a scary joyless robot, my coworkers still flash a big smile at me every time they pass me in the hall. I begin to suspect that the reason everyone is so nice to me is because they want to prevent a shooting spree.