Apart from a brief stint in the now-defunct B. Dalton Bookseller chain (I promise that I didn’t assist their demise!), most of my early working career was as an office temporary. Few things can compare with the horrors of being a temp, and it is to those thousands of wolf-hours of my life, lost forever, that I dedicate poor Caedmon’s search for the requirements of daily subsistence. The firm of “Also-Ran Temporaries” appears in a (literally) diabolical story that I published long ago, called “You Go Where They Send You.” I may have to share it with you one day. Short form: One never really know who one is working for, does one?

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