The new job is going ok. I get about 1% less useless with each passing day. If I were a competent data wrangler (cool title, eh?) at this point, I would make a nice graph showing you how my ignorance reduces over time. Instead, you get awkward sentences.
There are a few things that I don't like about my new job though. Here they are:
1) The alarm system scares the bejesus out of me. On my first day of work they walked me through the procedures for when and how to activate and deactivate the alarm system. The issue is that the first person in the door in the morning will set off the alarm and gets to deactivate it, and the last person out in the evening then reactivates it. These procedures involve access codes, list of phone numbers, and one drop of unicorn horn marrow. My big take-away from that lecture was not to be the first person to arrive or the last person to leave.
Next week, however, my daily schedule changes and I'll be arriving at the office at around 8:00am each day. To put this in perspective, since this is a San Francisco software startup, where some people routinely arrive at the office at 11:00am, my arrival time of 8:00am is the equivalent of arriving at 4:00am for a more typical office. It's a lock that I'll be setting off that alarm on a regular basis.
Look forward to hilarity.
2) It's been so long since I worked in an office, I had forgotten one of the things I hate most about it: taking a dump.
Man, I HATE taking a dump right next to someone in the next stall. Pooping is a private act for me, and those pseudo-walls that let you see the shoes of your co-pooper simply do not allow for enough privacy. I don't want someone to hear me pooping or even for anyone at the office to be aware that I have a sphincter. What I do on a toilet is not pretty. It is hard on the eyes, ears, nose, and soul.
In addition to the privacy issue, it's just plain nasty to have a shared bathroom. The other day I found what I can only pray was little bits of chocolate brownie on the floor. I was torn between being profoundly curious about why someone would eat chocolate brownies in the bathroom and being disgusted at the possibility that it was a less delicious substance.
Rumor has it that someone took a dump in the urinal a while back, so god knows what it really was.
And, to whoever left the magazine folded behind the toilet, thanks, but no thanks. I loves me some quality library time on the crapper, but reading YOUR magazine? Nuh uh. Unless you can provide me with a certificate as to your wiping ability and maybe some documentation on the provenance of the magazine, I'll take a pass.