First Day/Daze of Work...

I could write this blog one of two ways. One, I could let everyone in my office know about it and use it as sort of a fun, social forum for all of us to connect and comment and generate ideas and funny office clamor. Or two, I could chose a path that might be fun at first but may ultimately come back to bite me in the ass. Isn't it always a choice between a high road and a low road? Wow, I'm starting to speak in trucker cliches after only my first day as Executive Assistant--and I take that as a sign that I'm taking the low road, whether I like it or not. So welcome, friends, family, and total strangers...to my rant.

Disclaimer: Oh, nevermind. I can't really justify this except for that it just makes me feel better after a challenging eight hour day.

Thoughts on my first two days, comprised of a Saturday "company-wide training" on new software, and my "first official day", Monday Morning. I'll attack each behemoth of bad experience individually and then perhaps bridge them together with common themes.

First impressions: I'm working in a frat house for beer-bellied adults that are far to old to be acting this way.

Now picture this: It's 9am on Saturday morning, I walk into the office with a whirl of stares at every inch of me, as if I was part of the breakfast buffet, which consisted of enough food for the 16 male bodies in the office, and a few scattered female faces. There were burgers and hot dogs, too. There was so much food. Gallon-sized condiments sealed for freshness. Eggs, bacon, tortillas, hash browns, everything was being cooked on skillets. Then there were muffins, orange juice, vodka and beer, tomato juice...wait, wait. Back up. Vodka and beer? At 9am? Half of the Costco-sized bottle of Absolut was already missing, and I don't think it went into the recipe for the eggs. Now, I am not a prude when it comes to drinking (truth be told, I'm a lightweight because of my eating, exercise, and pill-popping necessities, and therefore, I was feeling a little under the weather from the previous night's margarita (singular). After the stares subsided, the first round of verbal greetings, to me, the new girl, began:

One of the brokers, the one who always talks about religion (this guy really rubs me the wrong way): "You'll fit in around here if you drink"
Brokers 2-13 (all men): "Wanna beer/vodka/beer/vodka/c'mon/beer/vodka..."
1 of my 2 bosses: "I dont think the other guys like me very much because I don't really like to drink on the job. I don't really socialize with any of them"
Broker #14: Your boss is an asshole, Amy. Oh shoot, you didn't know that yet?
Me: It's not even my first day yet, and you're seriously telling me my boss is an asshole AND asking me to drink alcohol at 9:15am? Are you kidding me?
Brokers (all): (silence as they stare).
Me: I heard I get a gym membership?
Mostly, I kept my mouth shut and retreated to my chair nestled in the corner with a fake bright green plant.

My first insane thought: I should make it a ritual to water the fake bright green plants everyday. Maybe if I just water the fake plants every day, they'll get a little taste of how I feel--kind of nuts for taking this job in the first place.

Crazy for taking this job. There, I said it. Crazy for caring so much about Steven and Paris that I'd rather work at my new job (name will be kept secret!) than spend another day scraping by, unable to pay my own debt, let alone help out with our monthly expenses...

I can't decide which was worse, Saturday or Monday Morning (aka, my first day). Now, you may be thinking, "why is she calling her first day "Monday Morning"?" Here's why: Brokers voluntarily come in at 6:00am. Come in! I come home at 6:00am sometimes. What gives? 6:00am is indecent. It's wrong! And it's pitch black in January. It felt like I was going on one of those unwanted high school trips to Boston again, getting up wicked early, giving myself an Italian Shower (body splash everywhere), and heading to the school to climb into a charter bus for the long haul. Realistically, my fate that day was far worse, as I entered the office, and tried to hide in my corner with my chair, my fake plant, and a new desk, complete with a broken computer. The computer was fixed by 6:45am. I should've been in bed. The coffee was brewed at 6:55. I should've still been in bed. The calls were made to the other applicants that the Exec Assistant position had been filled by yours truly. I should have still been in bed, and I shouldn't have tossed their resumes so soon.

Anyway, I'm not even going to edit because I'm too freaking tired. Don't get me started about the rest of the day. I'm such a kvetch whem I'm tired (look it up, I don't want to do another reference to my religion and sound like Cliff...oops, I revealed his name).

Maybe I'll take a jog around Craigslist job postings before bed tonight...