Diary of a Temp - Miss Piggy

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Pictured above: A sign on Elaine Ashton's colleague's office window. Original photo captured by Elaine Ashton.

Diary of a temp - Miss Piggy

Hello Miss Piggy!

I first met Miss Piggy on my first day on a new job at the school. She is a large lady, with an extremely nosey outlook on life while possessing an extremely high pitched voice that is put to use on a regular basis. Until I met Miss Piggy, I did not know what the phrase "any excuse" meant. Now I do. She loves to go into extremely long and boring explanations of the most mundane of subjects, which are usually extremely inappropriate at the best of times. Now, firstly, I must clarify that her name was not given to her because of her size or shape, but was appointed to her due to the obscene behaviour that she displays.

Wood Chipper and Other Office Torture Devices

The madness has started to set in. The sound of the wood chipper keeps infiltrating through the window like a bad torture device concocted to try and get information from us. The only problem is we do not know what information this could possibly be. It comes on and after 5 minutes it turns off. And then again, on and off... This pattern has now systematically persisted for the last 3 and a half weeks. The madness has started to set in. The windows are double glazed and there is no other source of ventilation in the room. The whole wall is lined with double glazed windows, which receive the seething hot beauty of the afternoon sun. For the 5 of us, we are the flies under the magnifying glass sitting and stewing in this immense 2pm heat. There is no oxygen in the room unless the windows are opened. If the windows are opened, the wood chipper screeches through the air piercing what you thought was left of your hearing. My mind slowly wonders to the memory of sitting on the toilet last night wondering why I could hear a faint high pitched buzzing. I now realise that this wasn't someone turning on the TV and me thinking I had developed spider hearing. Quite the opposite, I think I may be slowly going deaf. Must remember to thank the wood chipper and send a card.

My throat feels like a small person crawled inside it and grated it with a cheese grater. This is the result of sitting in a room being baked from the front by the seething heat that is coming through the double glazing while also having no ventilation or oxygen and the central heating keeps ploughing on as though we were in Siberia. I feel like swallowing a pineapple may have a better effect on my overall health.

The Reawakening

I suddenly hear a faint sound of snoring in the background that pushes me out of my slumberous daydream. When I look for it, I immediately start to hate and despise my own curiosity as the image that I find, can barely be described by the words in the English language.

It’s Miss Piggy! She is not asleep and not snoring. She is typing away on her greasy keyboard and slowly breathing like an animal that has yet to be endowed with a pair of working lungs. She has her favourite blue headphones on and cannot hear herself breathing like what I can only describe as 'Darth Vader masturbating'. I look over and again get a feeling of self-disgust for doing it. Why can I not learn my lesson and stop looking? My curiosity gets the better of me and I cannot help but look and stare at this mess that is called an upstanding member of society. Her skin glistens with grease. Her pimples and dry skin stare back at me innocently awaiting judgement that even I am too petrified to make. Her hair, sticking together for support and reassurance, looks like the bad end of a horse that has yet to die a long and painful death.

Photo by Atwater Village Newbie. A discovered poster on the junction of Glendale Blvd. and Glenfeliz Rd. in Northeast Los Angeles, the neighbourhood known as Atwater Village.

She reaches for her phone with a collection of fat sweaty fingers that quickly type away a message to the most unfortunate of friends. She then turns quickly and flashes me a smile while crunching on something that she must have stored away earlier between the cheeks as hamsters do. I realise that the look of disgust on my face has given the game away, so with no cover left, I turn away with repulsion and look at my screen. As I think to myself "Only an hour to go", the wood chipper chimes on with its merry song while Miss Piggy provides the chorus. 2Buzz Buzz Crunch, Buzz Buzz Crunch Crunch". I feel a trickle of sweat running down my back and hope that sanity won’t leave me just yet.

She reaches for a crisp, "Crunch Crunch Crunch". Breathing heavily and groaning. Yes, she has started to groan and it sounds like a strange sex noise of sorts. I then realise that maybe (and I hope) she is singing along to the music gushing out of her favourite blue headphones. The wood chipper chimes in "Buzz Buzz Crunch Crunch Groan."

I shudder and contemplate the welcome prospect of suicide...Only an hour to go...

A phone goes off. It rings and rings and rings. Everyone looks at each other in confusion and annoyance. Miss Piggy is groaning along to her music, blissfully unaware that an army of enemies is developing before her and starting to plan her assassination. The phone keeps ringing and ringing. I slowly realise that something has to be done so I address the beast and ask her to turn the noise off. She looks at me like I have just confiscated her supply of treats for the year and told her she has cancer. I persist. She gives in and flashes me another greasy smile, this time, displaying bits of food between her teeth that she will no doubt have later. The phone goes off again. I fantasise about a grenade and the damage it could do. I then realise that stronger action must be taken as this particular being has not understood the concept of hints and good manners. The heat gets to me and I threaten Miss Piggy, telling her that if she does not turn off the dammed device, then I will throw it out of the window straight into the wood chipper! She stares back at me with a crumb covered gob that slowly starts to form into a weak petrified smile. The cavalry finally chime in and she fingers the device.

Office. Life goes on.

It’s now 27 degrees in this room with no air and the wood chipper is at its height. I feel another trickle of sweat run down my bum groove and wonder how hot it has to get for a health and safety law suit.

The manager walks by and sticks her head through the door "Ooh, it’s warm in here isn't it!" laughing, she leaves, while I imagine the beauty of strangulation and just how effective my technique would be. 50 minutes to go...