I was going to do this with bullet points, but in the end it seemed a bit impersonal. It's Friday afternoon and I've finished everything up, so I can explain things properly.
     I'll start with the files. The green one marked 'Period End' is the most important - it's on the shelf next to my desk; try to make sure it stays there or Barry in accounts will pick it up and wander off with it. He'll apologise of course, but it won't help when you've had Margaret running around all flappy. I think the filing's more or less in order. Sometimes Margaret will take things out and shove them back in at random; so you might have to play hide and seek. If that happens, it's a good idea to look in the grey cabinet with the sticker of Prince Charles on the front, she has a habit of putting stuff in there even if it doesn't belong
     You'll probably have to find your way around Margaret's office too - I've stuck labels on her 'In' trays to help you out, though there's no guarantee she'll look at things just because they're in the top tray. I use coloured stars as a coding system - top priority gets a blue star.
     There's a list of all the weekly jobs on the other page. Everything's pretty straight forward when you get the hang of it. One thing though, the Movement Sheets have to be updated and sent out on Friday afternoons for the following week before lunch- time. Try to make sure you don't cock them up or Michelle Loughborough will be on the phone. She's PA to Ken Smart, the Chief Exec, which gives her the idea she's second in command. She likes to ring up without warning expecting you to sort out meetings. A word to the wise - don't let her take advantage. Once she asked me if I could take the teas to the third floor boardroom because Mrs Hayes had the afternoon off. I said gladly, if she wouldn't mind nipping round to my house to run the vacume over my carpets. That shut her up.
     Keep an eye on the stationery cupboard if you can. Someone's been filching the post-it notes. God knows what they do with them. There must be a house round here where every surface is covered in little self-adhesive yellow squares. I think it might be Dave the Wave from the third floor. We call him that because he's always on the internet. Be careful, if Margaret catches you too often she'll not be happy. I remember one poor temp caught hell off her agency because Margaret found her booking flights to Menorca.

< 2 >

     The Dictaphone is in the bottom desk drawer for a reason: out of sight, out of mind. If Margaret's reminded of it she's at it like a kid with a toy, just for the thrill of saying Paragraph. Full stop. Telephone messages go in the red book. Margaret's ex-husband phones occasionally, Peter. Try not to let her see he's phoned until it's time for you to leave for the evening. That way you won't have to hear her cursing or the sobs leaking out of her door. I met him at the Christmas party one year. He looks a bit like David Icke.
     It's no secret she's on the look out for another bloke. She tried it on with Mike Smallpiece from Publicity at last year's summer BBQ. I'm only saying that because I know you're not considered worthy of the gossip when you're a temp, and you might enjoy a smile when you see them going into meetings together.
     She's not bad looking though is she? Good legs for a woman her age. Granted the hair is a bit much sometimes. Between us, she's started having a look for blokes on the internet. You'll be able to hear her discussing them sometimes on the phone with her friend Gina (if Gina rings, always put her through, unless Margaret actually is in a meeting). She told me about the last one - some chap from Florida who was over on Business. She said he didn't meet her expectations, talked himself up in his profile. She told me she wants a high-flyer, someone with her ambition. Peter, the ex, wasn't into highflying I don't think. Maybe the bloke from Florida had different expectations too, Maybe he wasn't expecting Operations Manager of North Walsham Catering Services. It's scary when you think of how much we have to go around selling ourselves to each other. Sitting there pretending to be a team-player, pumped up with initiative nine hours a day. I think Gina suggested a divorced friend of hers who was something to do with furniture removals. 'Not my area' is what she told him. Not my area is a big thing for Margaret, gets her out of all sorts.
     While I think of it, a word about Graham in technical services (tiny mole like teeth), it's quite likely he'll make himself available for your first few days. Computer log in problems, passwords and so on. I used to have my suspicions he was deliberately pulling a few sockets. Spent ages diddling about with my computer when I arrived, I remember he got me into long conversations about natural flooring. A couple of months later he was bringing me jars of his mother's organic honey. Then one night he caught me after work and asked if I'd like to go to a Carole King concert with him, which was a surprise on two counts, first that he'd asked me, second because I thought Carole King was dead. Luckily I was still married then so I used my husband as an excuse.

< 3 >

     Patrick is my favourite man in the building. You'll see him twice a day with the post trolley. Watch the way he weighs up every envelope before he passes it to you, that little jittery dance he does before asking for a signature, as if he's worried you might refuse. I love the way he says thank-you very politely with that serious expression of his. When you get to know him you can ask him about Elvis and he'll offer to sing for you. It will be Love me Tender and he'll sing it all through with his beautiful brown eyes fixed on your face.
     On Friday there might be lunch at 'The Jolly Frenchman'. June can be relied on to fill any silences. She's bound to show you her orthopaedic shoes, but don't worry, it's just her way of being friendly. Mark's usually good for a gag or two. I hope you're not easily offended. Keith will talk about his Mondeo. Anne will probably talk to herself. I remember the first time I was out in a group with them, I thought how rude it was they were all ignoring her. But it's the way she is so don't feel obliged to try and get in on the conversation. A lot of it is rhetorical or simply involves her repeating little things to herself which gets quite wearing after a while. The thing is, she's not actually looking for answers. It would sort of unnerve her out if you took her seriously and started contributing. You'll see at her desk fretting underneath the wall planner about everything she's got to do and hasn't done. It's best if you can just tune it out and after a while it's background noise, like the fax or the photocopier. Unless she's having one of her singing days. Admittedly that's a different story. Part of the problem is the tune's very difficult to identify, I think it might be something from 'The Sound of music', but I've never been quite sure.
     While we're on the subject of little quirks, Valerie used to be a ballet dancer, that's what all the twirling is in aid of. She had some kind of accident when she was younger and it stopped her career. But she likes people to remember she is really an artist rather than Assistant Catering Manager (Operations). I like Valerie. Even though what with her twirling and Anne's singing I sometimes think I've taken a wrong turn and ended up in the green room for Opportunity Knocks.

< 4 >

     If it ever gets too much and you need a breather, take a stash of paper and walk around to the end of the car park. That way it looks as if you're taking stuff to the Xerox building (I've left a separate note for that, the machine which looks like a chunk of space ship needs some getting used to). If you follow the alley on the left it leads to a little verge. There's a low brick wall where you can see out onto the backs of the terraces. It's good for ten minutes peace and quiet. Some afternoons you can see the old lady in a wraparound overall hanging out washing or cleaning the yard. Sometimes her husband is out digging the vegetable patch. I've often thought how content they seem, but I suppose all couples look like that at a distance.
     I used to leave the gardening to Phil (my ex) but when he cleared off I started to take more of an interest. It was better than talking to myself, which I'd started to do without even realising. My son had to tell me about it. At least when Phil was there I could pretend I was talking to him. I don't know if you like gardening, you might be too young if Girl Fridays have sent you, all the other agency temps we've had have been young. But let me tell you, gardening really is one of those activities you can lose yourself in, you don't think of anything but what you're doing. Making little divots for new seedlings, or cutting back dead flowers, whatever it may be.
     I began to spend summer evenings planting and watering, weekends making trips round the countryside for new plants. My neighbours started to put their noses over the fence. A lady from up the road asked if I could give her a hand with her rockery. Then she told one of her friends and before I knew it there were people I didn't know ringing me up for advice.
     So then I started taking an evening class and reading books. Now I'm thinking of going out on my own, a little consultancy. Well no, that sounds too big for what I'm planning, just offering help with other people's gardens. But I need more time to sort it out.

< 5 >

     I've told them I'm having a month with my mother in Wells. She's never been very healthy, so they've given me an extended leave of absence. They know it could be longer. I am going to see her, but I'm doing a horticultural course at the college. I know it's a gamble at my time of life, but the point is, if I don't do it now I never will. My son's gone off to university. He says he's going to be an engineer. He was always one of those kids happiest in his own company, used to spend hours taking apart old radios and putting them back together again. I used to worry about him, but now I think he's got the right idea. He works it all out for himself, doesn't take directions.
     Now I'm saying too much. This has nothing to do with how to order stationery or what to do with the annual report, but who cares. I've had enough of bloody bullet points. I think I can safely say that I'll never be using a bullet point again. Or twiddling with that format button, or f'ing and blinding at the tabs menu. I always meant to teach myself to be a whiz on this computer, but when it came right down to it, I didn't want to spend my own time doing it.
     That's the difference with the gardening. I can sit up late at night learning Latin names and memorising soil nutrients and it doesn't seem like work at all. The thing is, I never liked organising systems. You should see the state of my kitchen. Then I end up with a job like this where everything depends on me drafting up colour-coded reports, double-checking catering supply sheets.
     So between us the agency might keep you on a couple of weeks longer. I thought I'd let Margaret know later. I couldn't stand the idea of a leaving party, with everyone clutching a plastic beaker of Sainsbury's Soave and Margaret giving some speech about how she'll miss me and how she doesn't know how she'll cope when I'm gone. I've seen too many of them. You're standing there with a tear in your eye thanking everyone for the silver plated pen set, and as soon as the boss can't find something your name's a dirty word.

< 6 >

     But the point is, it's quite a nice easy job and I'm sure it'll serve you for a little while. Well, you'll find out for yourself.
     One last thing, please don't forget to look after the plants. The geraniums should flower for another six weeks. They just need a bit of water and they'll be fine. They like it best in the light. But I suppose that's only common sense.
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