Today I find myself sitting in a different cubicle; this one part of a sister company that was acquired along with my own.  This other company is filled with slick, young, hip millennials.  As I walk the bright orange and brighter green halls, I wonder what percentage of these people are wearing glasses that weren’t prescribed by a professional?  Who knows, but I’m suppose to integrate into their space and their culture with minimal introductions.  And since I’m kind of flying solo, with no one to report to, nor anyone here taking any responsibility for me, I find myself wondering how early I can take off, slip out, and see if anyone notices or cares.

Step 11: sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

On the train ride downtown this morning, I was gearing up for my quasi-meeting with the person who, if I end up working here instead of there, will in all likelihood be my supervisor.  To prepare for the meeting, and to get off on the right foot, I researched this person to get some insight in his background.  But looking over someone’s home page is like listening to an arrogant prick bore you all night long with stories of his great successes.  Any project that was touched this guy, no matter how faintly or tangentially, was bragged up as a personal win in his column.  He transformed Culver’s Restaurants.  Helped explode the sales of Toro lawn mowers.  Grew the core of Sprint’s business.  Everything was accomplished with a hyperbolic action verb.

Yesterday, I emailed that I’d be in the office this morning.  In a brief e-mail reply without punctuation he asked where I sat, and that he’d “try to stop by” today. And since I’ve yet to met him (he was out on vacation all last week) this morning, I assume I’m not important, not wanted, not needed.  And please understand that no actual time was given as to when we would interact, so any and all resentments regarding this imagined slight are completely on me.

See, I had an idea of how things were going to go today.  I’d be welcomed with open arms and a genuine need for me and my services. “We’ve heard a lot of good things about you, and can’t wait to see what you can help us with in our new endeavour as we…” and so on and so forth.  I was going to make a difference; accepted by all as a great addition, and this will become me in my new professional life, moving forward.  Sure, these are all over-sized thoughts and hopes playing out in my head, and when none are realized, of course I’m disappointed.  So today I’m not getting the keys to the executive washroom.  And yes, I’m awkwardly walking around with a goofy smile on my face saying hello to those whom I’m instantly forgetting.  So add that first-day gut-twist to the list of the unsettled.

Note: Time has passed; it’s now mid-afternoon.

Now I’m getting that odd relief of not having to perform today – no e-mail or pop-by yet makes me guess it’s not going to be show time this afternoon.  That being the case, I’m slowly morphing into not wanting contact from anyone in this office – let’s call today a wash and try again real soon, how’s that sound?  Putting things off because of someone else’s schedule, things that I didn’t want to do in the first place, may be the greatest unannounced gift this recovering alcoholic can receive: another day without being told to dance.  Not that I can’t dance; I can.  It’s just that once I’ve warmed up and stretched and I’m ready to go, the performance can’t be bumped for later in the day: my juices will be gone by then, and I’ll just be going through the motions.

Today:  Adapt and adjust to what happens, and to what doesn’t happen.  Both are important to recognize.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s