The Temporary Worker

Self-employment consists of a feast or famine existence where I am either manically busy or idle. My line of business; training and development, has a seasonal flavour. During the spring, autumn and winter it tends to be busy – starting in September, trailing off during the run up to Christmas and getting extremely busy during January and February. It starts to trail off again around May. June, July and August are dead months for me. I was warned before I started and the pattern has worked out exactly as predicted. Last year was my first year and I was cushioned by my redundancy payment. This year, I have yet to build up sufficient reserves to see me through the quiet period. Much as I enjoy lazing about with no pressures, I still need to have enough income to pay the mortgage. Hence my reluctant decision to register for temporary work through the summer this year.

The last time I did temporary work was about fifteen years ago – and for the same reasons, to top up my self-employment. It is an odd existence. The temporary worker is a part of an invisible army. While the clients’ personnel are friendly enough, the temp is never there long enough to be worthwhile getting to know, so nobody does. Usually they are just standing in for holiday leave or illness. Here today and gone tomorrow, a fleeting flicker on the consciousness of those they touch so briefly and then vanished; forgotten. You get the vague feeling of being a non-person. That may be an unfair statement, but it is how it feels.

I was called at 07:45 on Thursday morning and asked; could I get into town to take on a driving job? Rule number one of temporary working is never turn a job down. One of the best ways of getting work is demonstrating your willingness to take anything – even if it makes your heart sink and you really don’t want to do it. Herein lies the benefit of temporary working; it is short-lived. You won’t be going back, so you can live with it for a day or two. I was needed to deliver vehicle parts to garages for a couple of days. This was extreme deja-vu for me. I did this type of work twenty years ago. These past two days were a sharp reminder of that past and I didn’t much like it.

The van had seen better days. It had five forward gears and one reverse. Selection was somewhat random; there were a total of six in there, so I was bound to get one of them and I was always successful. Overtaking in such an underpowered vehicle was likely to be fatal, so I quickly learned not to. I also had to recall my geography from all those years ago – fortunately I have a good memory and navigation is one of my strong points. For the second day I took my Garmin Navigator as I was in unfamiliar territory and it is easier than using printed maps. The satellite navigator is a boon of modern day living that I would not be without.

These two days reminded me why I stopped driving commercially. While some find being out on the road liberating, I find it tiring and stressful. An accident on the motorway meant trying to find an alternative route or risk falling way behind schedule. Trying to tie the schedule in with personal needs also became difficult. The destinations often meant going nowhere near where I could get food and drink, so I had to make detours. Then there is the little matter of where automotive businesses choose to be located. Why is it that they are always along tiny alleyways choked full of vehicles parked in a random manner almost designed to make navigating delivery vehicles difficult if not impossible; where there is precious little room to park, let alone manoeuvre a large van? On two occasions I had to solicit help with manoeuvring or risk taking someone’s paint off. For someone who loves travel, it might seem odd that I dislike commercial driving so much. However during my first experience, I discovered that it is because I enjoy travel so much that commercial driving is unattractive to me. Riding a motorcycle without having any need to be anywhere at any particular time (ferries excepted), to stop when I want, where I want and for how long I want is nothing like the pressure placed on the commercial driver. I realised that if I didn’t stop driving commercially, it would forever spoil my love of leisure riding and driving.

During the past two days, I earned a sixth of the money that I do delivering a training course over the same period and worked far harder for it. I was reminded of the army of invisible people doing this on a daily basis, working far harder than we give them credit for and earning a pitifully low wage into the bargain. Fortunately I have a training course booked in late July, so some of the pressure is eased a little. However, I will still need to do more temporary work before the summer is finished – as I really need two courses in a month to make a decent living.

What have I learned from my foray into my past? That there was a reason I gave up this kind of work – I much prefer the relaxed (almost easy) world of training and development. Also that a lesson in humility is no bad thing from time to time.