Bring them into your office and let them know their assignment is ending.
“But I was told this was temp-to-perm,” Larry, the boy temp says.
“And I’ve received no complaints about my work thus far,” Lesley, the girl temp says.
Explain that it’s not about their work. The work is beside the point.
“We were just hoping you two might fall in love,” explain. “Or at least, that you might have a nice steamy fling that we’d all get to watch ignite and them flame out.”
Tell them that everyone in your office is married or hopelessly single, and you’ve all already mixed and matched each other, engaging in every possible workplace affair that can be dreamed up and there’s just no one left to excite the imagination anymore.
“So we were hoping a couple young temps might be brought in here, share a cubicle, maybe share some lunches,” you say. “Before we knew it, you’d be shooting each other dirty looks across the conference table and we’d all be reminded of what it’s like to be young and still feel anything below the waist.”
“So,” Lesley says. “You, like, wanted to watch us have sex?”
“God no,” tell her. “We’re not pervs. We just wanted to share some floorspace with two people hungering for each other. Unfortunately, you two were a bust.”
“We were just being professional,” Larry protests.
“Yeah, I noticed,” tell him. “I mean, I noticed until I got so bored that I clocked out and went home to be with my kids. How boozed up did you two get on Beer Fridays, and not so much as a grope?”
“We thought we were here to help out with the Emerson account,” Lesley says.
“Nah we made that up,” tell them. “You’ve just been refilling old files we pulled out of storage to pretend we had something for you to do. We assumed it’d be so dull that you’d have no choice to but seek stimulation in each other’s pants, but no dice.”
Lesley leans across her chair and starts kissing Larry. She massages his chest awkwardly. Larry tries to reciprocate.
“Embarrassing,” tell them. “Sorry, I been married 24 years and I know what it looks like to fake it.”
Stand up and escort them out of your office.
“Don’t feel so bad,” tell them. “Chemistry isn’t something you can manufacture. Good luck finding a real job.”
After they go, head down the hall to see if those legal proofreaders are feeling any sparks. They’ve been on contract for only a week, but last time you walked past their cubes you thought you heard the girl giggling. Things could be heating up.
Happy The Temps Aren’t Hitting It Off Day!
