Ten years ago I was working as a temp, going from place to place for no more than a couple of months at a time with nice little vacations between gigs. I had no desire whatsoever for a permanent position until the general manager at Company X (not its real name) changed my mind. He didn't do it on purpose, but he was the reason I stayed there for three years.

I was working as the receptionist and keeping track of everyone's comings-and-goings. My first couple of days, being new, I had to ask every person as they left or returned, "What's your name, again?" The general manager gave me a different name every time. When he came through the door in the morning, he was Ed. When he left for lunch, he was Tom. Coming back from lunch, he was William. Stepping outside for a cigarette, he was Greg. And at the end of the day, he was Garth. The next day he would be Barry, Sam, Ivan, Bert and Andy. In a company of fifty employees, I had a list of hundred names. And a significant portion were red-headed men. Once I figured out what he was doing, I was absolutely delighted. I much preferred his antics to the usual somberness of law offices.

He's gone now, but I'm back again, working for a living to get health insurance. I'm the slightly deaf receptionist, although I call myself the "Communications Liaison". Others have taken his place to keep me on my toes, though. Since I can't always understand clearly what the people on the phone are saying to me, the sales staff steps in to trick me. After I announced that Backstreet Grill Restaurant was on the phone, the entire staff, en masse, gathered at the front desk to tell me that I must be thinking of the Backstreet Boys and the business was actually Drunkstreet Grill. "I'm so sorry!", I apologized. "It really sounded like Backstreet." I was too embarrassed to comment on the fact that Drunkstreet was a very odd name. So for three months, I announced calls from Drunkstreet. No one corrected me. I finally ran across some paperwork for Backstreet....and realized I'd been played.