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My 8 week temp job at IN-Santi-Cor (Temecula, CA)

My Eight Weeks at in-SANityCor Insurance Company By: Ms. Chardonnay Hills Eight weeks of my life I will never get back! This is a work of fiction based partly on real life. The names have been changed to protect the identity of the characters mentioned. This is a story about management at a local insurance claims office where bullies are in charge. This is a story about a "mean girls club" where the mean girls run the office like it is a 1960s ad office run by men. This is a story about a group of women whom regardless of all the women's rights movements, supposed enlightenment and the belief that women are more nurturing than men has been lost on this group of mean girls! In my opinion, the high unemployment rate, especially in California, has made it an employer's market. This means employers can take advantage of workers regardless of all the laws enacted in the last 15 years to protect employees. Employers know with jobs few and far between, employees will not do anything to risk losing their jobs, so employers take full advantage and break wage and hour laws, apply different rules and standards from one employee to another, over load certain workers with work while others receive little to do but the same pay! Here is my experiences recently as a temporary worker for a large London based insurance company. I have worked many years in business offices of all kinds. Corporate biggies, small independent companies--all of them were insurance related. Every office has its culture and weirdness but nothing to date can top my last office experience. There has never been such a group assembled that held the award for nuttiest office group as the Lloyd's of London office located in California's Riverside county sandwiched between Temecula and North San Diego County. Having recently relocated from Los Angeles to North San Diego County, I was in need of a job. Based on my years of experience in the insurance industry, I took a temporary job as a Claims Specialist through an employment agency. I do not know why, but I was under the impression that working in a smaller community as opposed to the "big city of LA", I would find myself among "real" people. People with kindness, compassion and down to earth values--that was my first mistake. I soon discovered I was in for a rude awakening! My agency representative presented the temporary position to me with the disclaimer "This company is a little odd. They've had lots of turnover mostly due to drama within the staff". What does one say to that statement "ah...okay?" Then I thought about it more and worried for my safety, I said to him "Drama as in someone going postal?" "OH NO" he assured me, "Just some personality conflicts". I was sure I could handle any situation as I had years of working in all sorts of offices with all sorts of personalities..."no biggie", I thought. The agency told me to "research" the company online so I would be well prepared for my interview. I thought it strange the company wanted an interview with me since the job was for a temporary position, but nonetheless, I tried to do my due diligence. This company had no information about it onlinenothing. I found out at the interview "yes you will not find anything about IN-santi-core online, we hide ourselves well" (was this some sort of money laundering front for the mafia?). I arrived for my interview 5 minutes early. I am ushered into a very large conference room where I sit and wait for 20 minutes (this is some form of power trip these girls play) Soon arrives three women,

without any apology about keeping me waiting. There were two young blondes and one middle-aged Hispanic woman dressed in clothing that resembled a bag lady with neon bright acrylic nails polished in two tones--pink and black. Not what I am used to in the fairly Conservative insurance biz. The older of the two blonde women was apparently the person in charge of the office. She had a decided twitch. She was constantly twitching her face, her eyes and oddly her breasts. The other blonde woman who appeared to be all of twenty-two was dressed more business-like but had a rather large cross tattooed on her exposed forearm. These two did most of the talking then passed me off to the middle-aged Hispanic bag lady. When bag lady opened her mouth to speak, her voice was squeaky and so laced with a sugary-sweet tone that immediately I felt this was her way of being condescending. I felt vomit rising in my throat. I stayed professional though and made it through the excruciatingly painful interview process. Apparently they liked me (not sure that is a good thing) and I was hired to start immediately to fill a position where the person I was replacing had been committed to the mental hospital! This should have been my clue to run as far away from these mutants. It is day 4 of this assignment and I am trying to adapt to sitting in a small and very exposed cubicle with absolutely NO privacy. I had been spoiled for the last few years by having my own very large and quiet private office. The noise level in this office is distracting and annoying. I am shocked no one is telling these bitches to hold it down, "use your inside voices". What kind of business office is this place? The entire staff is made up of women. There are 8 in all, 9 if you count me, but I do not count as I am a temp worker--not blessed with full time status. And, they know it. They go out of their way to let you know you are less than human and most assuredly the "help". For some reason, this particular group of women are the type I describe as high maintenance. Blonde, super thin and apparently the process of puberty was incomplete because though their bodies developed into mature women, their voices stayed at the 5 year old baby talking stage. The kind of tone of voice my mother would not pay attention to if I used it. The kind of voice that is whinny and high and sounds like you are trying to talk with a mouth full of shit. I am trying to concentrate on their archaic computer system(not what one would expect from Lloyd's of London with all their bucks) and a group of these screechers are discussing a shoe sale using baby talk. The 22 year old "Financial Officer" what a joke, how she lucked out and obtained the position is a mystery. Guess cause she knew how to make appropriate change while pole dancing? Anyway, Bimbo "Financial Officer" is squeaking about her "latest" shoe purchase to the middle-aged "Latina" whom by the way pronounces it as " L-A-T-T-E-E-N-A" in an over-the-top Spanish accent. Ms. Latina wannabe ( I say wannabe because she is from Chicago, not Latin America but tries to play off her Hispanic long forgotten roots) is saying OH MY GOD but saying the acronym "OMG! OMG! that is awesome!" Speaking of the Latina wannabe she is my alleged supervisor but mutual friends of ours cannot believe someone of her white trash status could supervise anyone as she cannot supervise her personal life. She lives and sleeps with her stepbrother for God's sake! Frequently my thought process is interrupted by my supposed "supervisor" asking me lame ass questions which she always begins with "sweetie" "honey" words that spoken from anyone other than my beloved hubby make me cringe. I feel like screaming to her: Hey Latina wannabe: Bella Abzug called and she said to tell you this is 2011 NOT 1955 and you don't have a penis so stop with the

sexism. Of course the reference would be lost on her as are most semi-intelligent matters, like how to goggle a person, or write a complete sentence. Ms. Latina likes to go ghetto sometimes and start talking in stereotypical gansta speak. Have you ever seen anyone do this? She starts crimping and doing that hand thing. You know, flashing made up gang signs? She goes into her skit thinking she is funny with the "jew know what I means, I could cutz youse" Very pathetic not to mention racist. The blonde bimbo with the "Financial Officer" title really confuses me. Her bio on her Facebook pages lists her as having "eight years of successful financial experience for many Fortune 500 companies." Eight years? Really? I know my math skills are lacking but for her to have 8 years of working anywhere, she would have had to start working when she was in the 5th grade. True there are some girl genius out there in the world but this bimbo does not strike me as having any special gifts and only a remedial understanding of finances at best. I later learn that bimbo's mommy is best friends with the CEO of the office. Nepotism does work I guess. My day starts with death and destruction. It is the nature of business for this Lloyd's of London outlet. They bet odds basically. It works like this: we will insure your extreme sports business for half a million and give you half a million in coverage. We are betting no one will die during your shoddy para-sailing operations and thus we do not pay out on any claims walking away with a cool $500,000 in profit. Truth be told, even if someone does die during your operation--Lloyd's won't pay either. I soon learn the specifics of my job are to find ways to NOT pay claims by finding loopholes in the coverage thus denying coverage to entrusted insureds or rule the claim as one of "no negligence" on the part of our insured based on my "investigation" which is essentially making a few phone calls. Lloyd's is so cheap they do not allow me to hire experienced investigators to actually "investigate". It is not what I am used to. Having worked all of my 30 years in the insurance biz for American carriers, I am programmed to some extent to "protect" my insured and to see the claimant's side as well in any accident. To show some compassion for the parties involved in any loss and to resolve and conclude the problems so all can get past the sad event. I know insurance companies get a bad rap (some of it deserved) but for the most part, I have worked for insurance companies that are made up of rational, caring people who see the forest for the trees and know when to pay and when to deny. This claims office is foreign and not held to American standards of justice or what is right or wrong. Consumer care means nothing to Lloyd's. Money and keeping it means everything. The stress of dealing with these heart wrenching claims (a few involved young children drowning whom my "supervisor" Ms. Latina wannbe said "children are not worth any money") and the daily assaults by legally blonde financial officer (who made it her job to question any settlement payments I managed to sneak by dumb Latina ) and Ms. Latina's constant "honey-ing me to death" made the few weeks working at iin-SANI-cor claims office unbearable. The worst part of the job was the (almost) daily meetings upon meetings inside the CEO's office. The CEO was another dumb blonde who had the habit of constantly twitching and readjusting her bra in between random outbursts of "FUCK". The one and only friend I made during my limited tenure at inSANTI-cor claims office, dubbed the CEO as "Ms. Titty tourettes". Frequently during these multiple staff meetings, my friend would bump my leg as we watched in amazement Titty Tourettes adjust and readjust her boobs, her neck, her arms, and twitch her face then randomly scream out the F-Word for no apparent reason. In my mind, I am also screaming the F-word and asking myself "How did I end up in this asylum?"

Starting of Week 2 of my assignment: I arrive early and since there are no assigned parking spaces, I have my pick, as I am early. I park in a space closest to the door of the building where my office is located. I arrive all smiles, ready to start my day with new enthusiasm. Within 2 minutes of arriving at my desk, I turn on my computer and check my mail. Curious, there is an email from a co-worker, it says "Hi there, just wanted to give you the heads up-and there is no way you could possibly know this-but where you parked....that is where T (titty turrets) always parks. She's not in yet so there is time to move your car".....WHAT THE F???? I could not believe what I was reading. I later learned my choice of parking space set off a chain of emails. A tattle-telling co-worker who is bent on joining this mean girls club, was spying out the window and saw me park in Titty Turret's space, she immediately did what any "good Christian woman" (as she describes herself) would do, call Ms. Latina wannabe and tell on me for doing something I had no rational mind to think was wrong. Ms. Latina wannabe, called Blonde Bimbo and asked "what should we do, what should we do the temp has parked in T's space", Blonde Bimbo took charge as any good Financial Officer would do, she delegated the task of telling me to an underling, thus the email to me. It ruined my day. Such pettiness is what makes for office shootings! (Disclaimer: Not me. Would not waste my bullets). I move forward from this annoying email about parking in spaces that are unassigned but yet assigned. I start to develop headaches from the loud music the Blonde Bimbo blasts while she talks or drones on about shoe sales and her shotgun purchases (no kidding, she really buys guns and has them delivered to the office!). Week 4 at insanity claims office: I am asked "got a second" by Latina wannabe. Heads up to all of you new to the workplace "gotta second" is not to be construed as good news is coming your way--NEVER. Typically "gotta second" means I really need to ream your butt about something, so "gotta second" is not "do you have time to talk to me" it is "come here now, I want to blame something on you as my ass was chewed by the guy above me, so I am chewing your ass as you are the guy below me". Latina wannabe is upset that I am interacting with my co-workers. Apparently when I interviewed with the trio of psycho women" I was explicitly told "NOT to speak to some people". I find this incredible. How do I work in an office and not speak to people who my job demands I speak with in order to complete a task? This woman is serious. In her sickening sweet voice, she says "Um, oh, um, well....seems you are whispering to"you know who"....we do not tolerate whispering, sweetie". WHISPERING?! No that is speaking in a normal voice which you would not relate to. I am speaking in soft tones so as NOT to disturb people working around me. But, Ms. Latina wannabe does not understand. Therefore, I do not waste anymore time with this discussion and promise NOT to whisper anymore and NOT to talk to specific co-workers because Titty Tourettes, Blonde Bimbo and Ms. Latina Wannabe don't like it. Week 6 OH MY GOD...I cannot believe I am still here in this purgatory of insanity. It has been a relatively calm week. Titty Tourettes and Ms. Latina Wannabee are gone for a week on some stupid mindless pursuit. Blonde Bimbo is here, still watching all of us, cause God only knows what we would do if we did not have her to watch our every move. It is Thursday night as we leave for the day. Fridays are casual days. At most companies, casual day means jeans and tennis shoes and that has been the rule at In-Santi-core too. I should have known these crazies would take issue with casual day too. Just as we are about to walk out the door, Titty Tourettes sends a missive from where ever she is at the moment " Effective immediately, jeans can only be worn on casual day if they are DARK blue, not light blue, not baby blue, not aquamarine, not slightly blue BUT ONLY DARK BLUE. NO tennis shoes are to ever be worn in the office!!" All I can do is laugh at the insanity and then get angry. We are grown ass women

and do not need to be told how to dress. Week 8...If you find me hanging by a rope in my cubicle don't cut me down until I've stopped moving...I have to get OUT of here: The end is in sight. I knew it would be only a matter of time before I clashed with one of these trio of absurd women. It has finally happened. Seems Blonde Bimbo was inadvertently left out of an email exhange involving a client and their internal people. I was not part of the client's internal email exchange either and was only copied on the very last email from the client. Does not matter that I was not clued in by the client. Blonde Bimbo is pissed off. She summons me to her office with a curt inter-office call of "come to my office" (gee what happened to gotta second?). I dutifully go to Bimbo's office. She is seated at her desk, does not acknowledge me or look up at me when I enter her office. She is staring at her computer screen and like a temper tantrum two year old screams "why wasn't I involved in this email, now I look like an idiot (just now you look like an idiot? Fooled me, I thought you looked stupid the second I saw you). For several minuets Bimbo rants and drones on. I keep my cool. I end up apologizing for something I did not do just to shut her up. Was that sufficient? Oh no, Bimbo then follows with an email chastising me again for crap I did not do. That really pisses me off and puts me in defend mode because Bimbo has copied everyone and his brother in on the email which overtly blames me for something I did not do. So I respond to Bimbo, and multiple emails go back and forth. Suffice it to say, weak insecure, immature and brainless people do not like to be challenged. I am now receiving unemployment benefits. Writing this blog is helping me to understand what happened. Basically it is this:mean people suck. Whenever things like this happen to me, things that defy understanding and logic, I have to step back and analyse what the hell took place, what was my fault in all of this? People who know me--really know me suggest this group of women were insecure and afraid I would take their jobs. Is this all we have learned from the women's movement? Apparently so.