Here Comes Treble: Waiting
...With fifteen minutes until the end of the working-day and about to be consumed by boredom, I decided that the alternative was to put my fingers to the keyboard and see what happened...
In that quarter-hour Isabel Bradley produced a prose-poem which reminds us that time spent waiting for something to happen should be viewed as a gift, rather than a burden.
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A few years after resigning from my last job I needed to supplement my income and registered with a personnel agency as a secretary, willing to do temporary office-work. For days, or sometimes weeks there would be nothing. Then there would be a phone-call, I’d wake early next morning, I’d dress in my formal working-clothes, drive through the traffic to an office I’d never seen before, and spend a day or two sitting at someone else’s desk, answering their phone and being as helpful as possible.
There were several fraught occasions when I was called in to take the minutes of a meeting, among people I’d never met, whose names, faces and job descriptions were unknown, and who used ninety-percent jargon. Somehow, I always managed to write down all the information needed, and turn it into documents which made sense to those who attended the meetings.
Many secretarial jobs have long quiet moments when there is nothing to do. These occur even when a ‘temp’ is sitting in on the post. It had been a quiet day. There was an occasional telephone call, mostly needing to know when Alison would be back, to be told tomorrow. Periodically, one of the legal team, who did their own typing, asked me to format their documents, which usually took about ten minutes. In between these bits of business, I’d watched the comings and goings at the florist shop over the road and type long individual letters to several friends who didn’t yet have e-mail.
With fifteen minutes until the end of the working-day and about to be consumed by boredom, I decided that the alternative was to put my fingers to the keyboard and see what happened. The following ‘prose-poem’ grew:
Sitting in an office
Waiting for someone to give me work
Waiting for the end of the day.
Waiting…
So much of life is waiting.
Waiting for the phone to ring
to hear a loved-one's voice
for a moment alone
for a bus, a taxi, a train, a 'plane.
Waiting.
Waiting and time-wasting
are they the same?
Wasting time, just waiting…
Or - thinking, creating, organising,
using the time to arrange your mind,
your cupboards
while you wait for him to come home.
Writing a letter, or two or three
while you wait for the work that never comes
But the pay comes, so why worry?
Use your waiting wisely.
Catch up on sleep while waiting for a 'plane
Catch up on reading while waiting for a bus
Or while waiting on the bus for it to reach your destination
Finish that knitting, embroider a cushion-cover
Write a poem, for goodness' sake - or even an article!
And so
When the traffic is high
Don't huff or puff or sigh
Switch on the sound
Tune out your mind
At the end of the day
Unwind!
Perhaps it was ‘waiting time’ well-used. Being bored is something other people feel. With pen and note-book or a computer at my disposal, I’ve always got something to do.
Oh – the temporary work? Because of it, I finally found a permanent niche where I can negotiate when I want to work and how many hours at a time. If I need time off for rehearsals, I take it, and when Leon and I travel, well, the office manages without me. In return, I’m reasonably paid, and often spend several weeks at a time keeping the office running while my boss is off travelling. It’s ideal.
Temping was a means to an end, definitely not a waste of time.
Until next time, ‘here comes Treble!’
By Isabel Bradley © Copyright Reserved
