Be nice to me, I’m a trainee.

So.  Pretend you’re me.  Thank God you’re not but just pretend for a minute.  It won’t hurt, I promise.

So pretend that it’s your first day at your dream job.  Okay, not your dream job exactly (Because that job involves minions.  And donuts.) but the job that you prayed for and studied for and bothered anyone with any kind of connection to it for months on end.  (Sorry about that, by the way)  It’s your first day and you hope the other kids will like you and that somebody will sit by you at lunch.

You choose your first day outfit carefully.  But not too carefully.  Don’t want to look like you tried too hard.  You commute through stupid and completely ridiculous traffic and still get there 25 minutes early and have no idea where to park or where to report.

You tour the office of 15 other staff members in a labyrinth of doors and cubicles and tight hallways in a National Historic Register building.  You remember all of four names.  And not a single job title.  You get the big office with the big desk and the computer with the big screen, all set up and ready to go.  You meet with your team who has been doing your job since April and who doesn’t want to do it for one minute longer.

It is 9:30am and all you want is a cup of coffee and the Today Show and fat pants. 

And by “you”, of course, I mean “me”.

I think it will all be fine.  I know it will be fine.  Once I get past the new names and new location and the crazy busy schedule…it will be fine.  I got this. 

I heard that repeated for the last two weeks…”you got this.”  And I do.  I will.

And I understand that the job has been empty for far too long and the people who divided that job and have been doing it are D-O-N-E…done.  Production isn’t for everybody.  I get that.  That part I can do in my sleep.

But there are elements at play here that will take some time.  Some of the elements are hard to describe other than basic administrative tasks that involve (in my opinion) far too many emails and calendar entries and databases.

My question is this:  how can I possibly to be expected to remember all they crammed into my big, old brain today?  And how long can I play the “I’m new here” card?  Because I need to keep that card in my back pocket.

I feel like my brain has exploded everywhere.  The littles are doing as well as expected but they want my undivided attention the second I’m in the driveway.  And all I wanted today was a fistful of Motrin and a nap.  I got neither.  But, I am nursing a head cold so…there’s that.

It’s fine.  It’s going to be fine.  But today it’s not fine.  It’s scary.  And my stomach hurts.  And I hope I have a better handle on everything tomorrow.  I have to remember that I asked, specifically, for this.  And I got what I asked for.

For the record, I didn’t have to eat lunch alone and the kids are all nice and I looked pretty good.  It’s a start.

4 thoughts on “Be nice to me, I’m a trainee.

  1. If you don’t want to ask the other kids all of the questions, ask me. I know some of the answers, I won’t think you’re weird for not knowing them, and that way you can dump a bunch of the petty or repetitive stuff my way and save up the real puzzlers for them. The booth, she is like Vegas: what happens in the booth, stays in the booth. Largely. I mean. If it’s really funny & would enrich the world by being out there, sometimes it’s gotta go. The Stagehand Referred to Online As Sudan and I had a fake domestic dispute in there once that was purely for public consumption. I threw a(n invisible) folding chair: he went with the elbow drop, it was awesome.)

    And if it helps, I swear to God that those nice kids also had to ask questions, sometimes repeatedly, just to form the Borg collective that covered that job while it was vacant. We all do it.

    Also, don’t forget–it’s not as if you have to learn 100% of a new job from scratch or the world collapses. The production side runs itself in a lot of ways–and has–just needs a little wheel-greasing here and there: so if you need to conserve your energy for the weirder stuff, there you go. (This does not apply to the soul-destroying holiday season, but you already knew that. We should talk about December at some point when we’re both on the clock and I’m not drinking pumpkin ale, like I am now. In fact, I am going to have another. I hear Post Road Pumpkin Ale is the best, but the Buffalo Bill’s version my local grocer sells works just fine.)

    • Thanks Anne. You bet I’ll be darkening your booth door sometime soon. You know, when I won’t get brain bits all over the window. Because…yuck.

      Thanks for the perspective.

  2. I just want to give you a big hug. Starting a new job is SO stressful…which is probably why I’ve been putting off leaving my crappy job for something better. In a few weeks you’ll be in a comfy groove and will gain confidence, but now…this part…is hard. You (and the girls) will adjust before you know it. Just try to get through the next couple of weeks until you find your comfort zone. Congrats Jenn; it sounds like a great opportunity.

  3. You’ve done it again. You succinctly described what thousands of newbies go through and yet you did it with humor and panache. If you can do that, you can do anything. Now go get ’em!

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