Anyway, I started a new job at a new insurance brokerage firm. And no, I did not get kicked out of the last one for my shenanigans. That was an internship that had a pre-set ending date, thank you very much.
On the first day of work, I immediately began sizing up my coworkers to see who would be my friend, who could take a joke, and who would forever think of me as an immature 21-year-old (guilty). My task that day was to shadow the receptionist. She would show me how to work the phones, introduce me to people around the office and basically orient me to the company. Having a 45 year difference between us was difficult, to say the least. Even though we were both female and spoke English, there was definitely a barrier: generational, that is. Needless to say, we didn't see things the same way. No, there is no animosity between us; we respect each other very much. We just see and sense things differently. Hence, my suspicion of her suspicion of me.
On the second day of work, I read the employee manual. On page 64 section B part 2, there was a description of disallowed activities in the office workspace. A few lines down, I read, "No horseplay, joking around, or pranks. No unapproved tape recorders or voice recorders. Keep recreational conversation to a minimum." WHAAAAAAAAT?! I dropped my head in disappointment and I think I even shed a tear (or is that my allergies?). Regardless, that may as well have been a death sentence, "WHAT am I going to do at work?!" I thought in exasperation, "I literally don't know what to do with myself now."
Surprisingly, the thing I was most upset about was the whole tape-recording thing. My friend gave me this great practical joke idea where you put a sign on the copier saying that it is now voice activated with "the password". People are confused and don't know what "the password" is so they start yelling out random passwords at a copier that is unresponsive (because it's not voice activated). You record the whole thing. Well obviously this is now impossible. Sigh.
I walk into the lobby where the receptionist is and ask for a pen so I can sign the employee manual. It takes me about a minute of staring at the signature line wondering if I really want to agree to no pranks but I resolve that I do want this job. The receptionist gives me a sideways look and goes, "Are you going to sign that?"
"Umm, yes, I'm just looking for the line..."
"It's right here." *points*
"Oh, yes, right."
"Did you read the whole thing?"
*I look up*
She's either thinking, "Kids these days never read anything if it's not on a computer or tomigotchi," "I hope she read page 64, section B, part 2 twice," or "Have I checked the mail yet?"
I give her my paper and drag my feet back to my desk.
On the third day of work, my boss realized I was working in the dark. The way my cubicle was set up blocked out a lot of light. She decided I needed a lamp. I brightened up a bit. I was thinking I got to pick out my lamp that would go at my desk. Wrong.
After lunch, the receptionist calls me over to look at some of the lamps she picked out for me. One word to describe all of them: BORING.
*Sideways glance* "Well I thought these would offer you the most light."
"Well, umm, are there more pages of lamps?"
"I really think these are your best bet."
A stare-down ensues. I give way to seniority.
"All right..."
I got a lamp like this:
When I really wanted a lamp like this:
I bet she knew it too.
On day 4, I brought a salad to work. She saw me eating in the break room and said, "Salad, huh?" I stopped chewing for a moment to decide what her comment actually meant. She either said, "You're a fat chick at heart; you're not fooling anyone," "There's no way you can eat a salad every day and be satisfied," or "That looks like a really good salad."
We broke eye contact and I resumed chewing.
On the 5th day, Friday, I came to work with barely any make-up on, my hair pulled into a tight bun and a headband on. Yes, I went out Thursday night and woke up too late to do my make-up or fix my hair. Therefore, the headband was a failed attempt to cover up my God-awful hair.
"Nice headband."
"Thanks."
I walked to my desk and sat down. I paused. Wait, was that sarcasm? Did I see a smirk on her face as she "complimented" me or am I imagining that? Let's think....
She was really saying, "I know you were out late last night," "You look like shit," or "I like that headband." Just as I was about to run into the lobby yelling, "You are NOT my mother," a co-worker stopped by my desk for a memo and said, "Oh, Haley, I like your headband."
Ok, so either everyone thinks I look like shit today or likes my headband. Or thinks I'm 12 years old.
So that was my first week. Looking forward to many more.
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