Having survived four days at the new job I’m on the verge of becoming useful to them. For me, the first day of any new job is generally spent making an ass of myself as I try to learn how to use the copier, get lost going to the bathroom, and greet the senior VP by the wrong name. By day two I’ve found the soda machine but still can’t send e-mail, and I ask enough simple questions to make my co-workers wonder if I’m brain damaged. Day three finds me confidently making my way from my desk around the floor, but invariably ends in disaster as I discover my card key hasn’t yet been activated and I have to wait in the lobby for fifteen minutes until someone can come let me back in. Day four is my first real chance to screw up something important, and by day five I’ve hit rock bottom and have no where to go but up. With that in mind I’m very much looking forward to tomorrow, my fifth day.
In all seriousness, things have been going reasonably well and I like the people I’m working with (honestly, I’m not just putting that here since they might some day read this journal). I finally found a place to live, and the housemates seem to be interesting people (an artist, two architects, and a writer), but the best part about my living arrangement is the two German shepherds, Fundy (three months) and Argus (three years). These dogs might be the coolest canines ever. My daily routine now goes something like this: work – run – play with the dogs for as long as humanly possible – sleep – repeat.
