Mondays and work should be reserved for the young.

June 7, 2010 at 11:48 PM 1 comment

Oh Lord, where do I begin?

What should have been a sweet and wonderful moment (at least commercials make it seem so) was shocking.  I woke up to the light of  this mornings sunrise.  Instead of peaceful sweet music filling my head (what with the beautiful scenes around me),  I heard  music reserved for slasher movies.  I realized I had slept late AGAIN!!

I had the usual, what-the-hell-is -wrong-with-you, Stacie?, speech.  You know the, ya- gotta- get- your- life- in- order, OR the, I-need-to-retire/quit work-sleep more-eat less talk. Well, I had all those simultaneously.  All the while, I have to hug, kiss, referee, and reassure my boys.  That is the sweet part.

After the usual e-mail to my boss telling him that I suck, I jump in the shower and get ready as fast as humanly possible while still making sure I still look human.  I speed to work while thinking of all I need to do when I arrive.  At that moment I realize I am insane just attempting to predict my day.  I try do it anyway.  I never learn!

I get to work and I KNOW that there will not be any spots left in the garage.  Upon arrival, I see a parking spot in my garage.  All I can thing is sweet sweet Jesus, thank you for the spot!

I walk inside and I am immediately bombarded with three requests!  I haven’t even made it to my desk.  One requires me to change a printer toner cartridge.  Easy enough if you don’t get all caught up in the industrial tape they use to ship them.  As I am fumbling with this plastic thingy with a big gobby piece of tape on it, I somehow get it caught on my hand and I cannot get it off.  About that time a new hire, Jake, comes up to me with his supervisor, wanting to shake my hand.  I proceed to shake his hand with an orange appendage-like piece of plastic hanging off my hand.  It was magical.  I wanted to say “Hi, my name is Stacie – Inept girl!  Instead I say, “Hi, I am Stacie the admin. for the group.”  As he watches me fumble to release myself from the tape bondage, I can’t help thinking what the hell he is thinking.

I proceeded to do all the things I normally do for an intern new hire.  I treat him like he is just out of college in “the big world”.  So, when he asks me the following questions, I THINK the following things (keep in mind I am exaggerating my thought ALOT):

I love to travel.  Am I going to do a lot of traveling?

Uh. No. You are an intern.  Interns don’t usually travel.

Do I get a Blackberry? Who do I ask about it?

Noooo, interns do not get BlackBerrys.

Should I open a checking account at the credit union? Do they give house and car loans?

Sure!  Open a checking account. Get a home and car loan.  You are leaving here in 3 months but knock yourself out.

How is the retirement plan?

Okay.  Is this guy for real? What have they him?  This makes no sense.  Interns are in and out.  There is NO retirement plan.

After a few hours of this and many interruptions later, I begin to realize I am not feeling well.  It is 11 and I haven’t stopped to eat. On my way to take Jake to the badging office for the second time (the first time everyone was at to lunch at 2 p.m. – I know, don’t ask.  2 p.m. for lunch – stupid), I feel like I am either going to pass out or hurl.  As we approach our floor, I tell Jake he can go to his desk and “play around on his computer and when he his done, he can leave for the day.”  Keep in mind, I do not have the authority to let anyone go home early, but I felt it needed to be done for my sanity!

After I had a moment alone, I realized that Jake is not an intern.  He is a new permanent hire.  All those questions Jake asked were appropriate and necessary.  I feel like a total doofus.  To make matters worse, as I try to gather my bearings, a few people come by and I am so scatterbrained and klutzy that they must wonder if I am drunk or just psycho. Jane comes by and I trip over air, knock a few boxes over and I stumble over my words when she asked me a question.  Brilliant!

Around this time I get a phone call from my mom with a heavy guilt trip included on the conversation.  I mistakenly told her I would possibly come by some time this past weekend.  Apparently that means I am definitely coming over.  I decide to deal with this later.

Around this time my boss, Bubba, comes to my desk and appears irritated that my psychic abilities failed me.  Apparently, I should have known that he had an out of pocket expense that he failed to mention.  Man, I am really off my game.  If my abilities were in order I would have know about the meal as well as known he was coming with enough time to flee my desk before he came by.  I vow to work on my sixth sense.  Obviously, it is a job requirement.

Finally, I order five Blackberrys, order two meals, make 5 computing requests, submit four building repair requests, file a huge amount of papers, clean out my too-full e-mail, and take care of at least 50 requests of some sort.  After 2 1/2  hours of overtime, I am tired, cranky, and ready to go home.

I leave work, arrive at home, eat dinner, go to Target, watch the Daily Show, and talk  to my hubby for a few minutes.  Go to bed late and wait for Tuesday!

God help me!  I’m too old for this.

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Entry filed under: About Me, Work. Tags: , , .

You know you are old when…. Wow! A girl in the house.

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Paula  |  June 9, 2010 at 12:03 PM

    awwww – life it not easy but it sure is funny reading about yours – this is meant with tons of love…

    Reply

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