I'm sitting here in a room I refer to as "the Swamp Suite," though I think it's also known as the fish bowl. A large glass window looks in/out into a hallway. Right now some execs in suits are standing out there while I eat. I think they enjoyed watching me eat my banana. This is really the first I've been in here since the beginning of the day. My temp agency told me this would be a data entry/processing job, but my morning was devoted to "filebacks." Right behind the front desk receptionist is a wall of shelves with files on them. In front of the wall are more files on shelves that slide back and forth on a little track. My job was to put files back in their proper places. Several hours of this work rawed my fingers and made me borderline suicidal/homicidal. See, on some of the shelves they've got files crammed in so thick one more just won't go. The whole time the phone was ringing. Voices in my imagination started answering the phone and screaming obscenities at the callers. Every time a file simply wouldn't fit, I daydreamed about ripping it up and setting it on fire. At one point I slid one of the sliding shelves too hard and it hopped off its track so I had to take files from it, lift it up and set it back on the track, and replace the files. After a while of filing, one of my fingertips began to bleed. I wonder if I could file workman's comp if it gets infected.