The New Girl

Well, I did it. Made it through my first full week. Not exactly full – I did have to leave a bit early on Monday for acupuncture so I didn’t have the complete experience of two full days and two half days, but Wednesday, that was my first full eight-hour day in…cripes, I don’t remember how long. Maybe since February of 2005 or thereabouts.

And boy, was I wiped. I dragged my ass home, stretched out on the PT bed in the living room, and asked Husband oh-so-nicely if he would make me dinner. And he obliged, that wonderful man, and made some kind of grilled chicken flavored with his own concoction of whatever we happened to have in the refrigerator.

I slept like death that night.

Only one half-day left and we could call it a week.

But looking back, I realize that I forgot a few things.

For instance, what it’s like to work in a small office instead of a factory. It’s a cozy little building, in the heart of our small city, with everything you could want only a few minutes walk away. Five minutes (OK, maybe six) walk to coffee and back. You just have to be careful of the caterpillars. We’re in the middle of an infestation. They are everywhere, these tiny inch-long disgusting things…dripping from the building’s exterior, dripping from the trees, all over the stairs, the handrails…every time I come inside I have this desire for a Karen Silkwood shower. Or at least a good shake. And then they come flying off. Caterpillars stuck in my hair (it’s massively curly, for those who don’t know me), crawling down the back of my jacket…ewwwww……

Also for instance, I’d forgotten what it’s like to be the “new girl.” To go into a new workplace, all wide-eyed and eager, and watch everyone else buzz around like bees in their well-oiled machine (yes, I’m mixing metaphors, but I’m tired, damn it.) while you sit at a desk that used to be someone else’s and try to figure out how everything works. The machines, the workflow, the politics of the place.

Oh, they’ll tell you, if you ask the right people. Some people are nicer than others about it than others. Some just assume that you should know, now that you’ve been plugged into the Collective, and get annoyed when you have to ask how to fill out a time sheet or how the fax machine works.

Apparently, I made the dreadful faux pas of asking the Operations Manager (whose job is handling these things) how I should handle putting my hours on the time sheet when the pay week goes from Thursday to Wednesday and all time sheets are required to go to him on Thursday morning. But my first training week I started on Wednesday and apparently this made a huge problem for him and he felt like he needed to explain the whole process again, as curtly as he’d explained it to me the first time.

“Excuse me, Mr. Time Nazi, Sir,” I wanted to say. “It’s my first week. For the last eight years, I worked for a place where I clocked in and clocked out, period, and never had to account for my time. And before that, I haven’t worked for an ad agency for, like fifteen years, so cut me some slack on the paperwork, for Christ’s sake. And maybe you ought to cut down on the double-Turbo-shots from Dunkin’ Donuts, while you’re at it.”

But I just sucked it up and tried my best to fill it out right. I’m positive he’d let me know if I left out a comma or if I’d entered the time in the wrong format, say in minutes instead of fractions of hours. Or not. Maybe he’d just correct it himself and then gossip to everyone else how I can’t follow directions and why’d they hire me, anyway?

I have no idea.

That’s the other thing. I thought it was hard to break in to the social system my last job. 150 people worked there, and for weeks, most of the sales guys thought I was the new temp.

But in this hive of four, it seems harder. On the surface, everything looks fine. My boss is nice as anything, and will interrupt whatever she’s doing to answer my questions. The web designer, who is nice but kind of amusingly dark like Daria from that show on MTV (one of the few reasons why I ever watched MTV, but Daria’s been off the air for years), has also made it clear that I could come to her anytime with questions. Which I do. Because sometimes it feels like I’ve been dropped into a middle of whitewater without a raft, an oar, or even a life vest. And even the Operations Manager can be pleasant on the exterior, usually when in the presence of another employee, especially the boss.

Still I feel like I’m missing something. Underneath (except for my boss), it seems like the others go out of their way not to include me in their private jokes, their coffee runs, their lunch orders.

Maybe I just need to give it some time.

Meanwhile I’ll keep my head down, try to learn as much as I can, cut myself some slack and try not to take it personally.

And avoid the falling caterpillars.