Six Months

When I was 16, I was promoted to Library Page Extraordinaire and went to work in the library basement.  I guess they were so impressed with my ability to hide behind the shelves and read shelve books during my shift that they wanted me to do bigger and better things.  Upon my arrival in the basement, I became Junior Book Pocket Typist.  You remember the pockets at the back of library books with the cards that a sassy librarian would punch with the due date?  My job was to type (on an actual typewriter) the information on the cards and pockets – title, author, Dewey Decimal call number, all that catalog-y stuff – and then cover the books in those clear book covers that make a library book, a library book.

Here’s the thing – I wasn’t the greatest typist.  When I started, I made more typos than I could count, I could never get the lines to align, my pockets were crooked, and my covers weren’t the greatest.  For the first few weeks, I used to take home all the pockets that I messed up that day and throw them out.  I was scared of getting fired embarrassed at how many mistakes I was making.  So, every night I’d stuff my jeans pockets with my book pockets and wonder if I’d ever become a better Junior Book Pocket Typist.  Every night, my mom assured me the next day would be better.  I could only hope.

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Seven months ago, I knew exactly what I was doing when I arrived at work each day.  I was good at my job of “being an archivist,” I was a go to person, and I knew how to get things done.  Sure, I spazzed out every other day once in a while and I could be moody when I got annoyed but overall, things were good.  Besides, I was fun to have around. 

Six months ago, that all changed.  Good bye comfort zone, hello new job.  It’s definitely been a period of adjustment – both personally and professionally.  I’m over the "I don't fit in with these people and I’ll never make friends!!" pity party that I threw myself a few months ago because, quite frankly, who wouldn’t want to be my friend?  (I’m feeling a bit full of myself today!)

Professionally – well, that’s an altogether different matter.  Every day, I whisper the following three pieces of advice to myself –

1.      Courtesy of my friend M. K.  – give myself a year to get used to everything and feel like I know what I’m doing.

2.      Courtesy of my boss – everything’s reversible.*

3.      Courtesy of Pinterest – mistakes are proof that I'm trying. 

Some days it helps.  Some days it doesn’t.  The days that it doesn’t are the days that I treat myself to a great big chocolate cupcake. 

In my new position, I’m responsible for ensuring that all of the descriptions that go into our online catalog meet all of the agency descriptive standards.  One of my colleagues likes to compare our standards to the rules of the road.  Just like there are people who enforce the rules of the road, there are people who enforce the standards.  And I'm one of those people.  But I’m so much nicer than your average traffic cop.

It’s been quite a learning experience.  In addition to learning the ins and outs of the standards, I’ve had to learn to deal with the fact that some people are not going to like what I tell them.  And I've had to learn that although they might not like what I say, it doesn’t mean they don’t like me.  I don't exactly like it when people don't like me. 

There have been some unexpected surprises.  The part of my job that I thought I would hate the most…I actually kinda like.  I get to teach new describers about our standards.  Sure, I’m not over the moon about having to stand in front of people to speak but I have the opportunity to help people navigate the system and write solid descriptions.  I mean, I’m no Mother Theresa but I feel good knowing that I’m helping others.     

Six months in, I’ve had good days and cupcake days.  I’ve made mistakes, I’ve cursed out my computer, and I’ve seriously wondered if I brought a curse to my new office (I blame myself for every technological issue that crops up.  And then there was that East Coast earthquake that I think might’ve been my fault.)  I’ve doubted myself and my abilities and camethisclose to begging for my old comfort zone job back.  But then I remember a 16 year old girl who stuffed all her mistakes in her pockets when she first started a new job.  Her mom was right - the next day was better.  And eventually, that Junior Book Pocket Typist figured it all out.

Give me another six months and I'll let you know how it's going!   

Got Quakes?

Today was a very moving day for me. 

(I’m trying too hard, aren’t I?) 

If you weren’t on the East Coast to experience it, you’ve no doubt heard about it by now.   There was an earthquake, epicenter near Richmond, Virginia and felt all the way…actually, I haven’t seen the news so I don’t know how far away it was felt but I’ll tell you where I was when I felt it. 

I was in my chair at my desk doing very important government work.  I had just clicked a very important button to do a very important thing when suddenly there was a rumble from beneath me, my desk started quaking, my very important Presidential Library mugs started clanging together, and I thought what the hell is that?!  Okay, I didn’t think it.  I said it.  My colleague in the cubicle across from mine looked out his window and informed me, very calmly and matter-of-factly, that it was an earthquake. 

Look, this was the first time my world’s been rocked, if you know what I mean.  Earthquakes don’t happen on the East Coast!  What does one do in an earthquake?  They didn’t run drills for this sort of thing in my elementary school!  Do we shelter in place?!  Do we find a bathtub and cover ourselves with a mattress?  I work in a federal facility – no bathtubs or mattresses for us – there was a plan, by golly. 

The plan was to exit to the nearest stairwell.  That pIan was fine with me...I work darn close to a stairwell so I calmly proceeded into the stairwell.  But then they told us to keep going, exit the building, huddle together at our assigned spot.  Good plan and all.  But I couldn’t help but wonder…what happens when the trees start falling and the ground opens up and swallows us deep into the Earth’s core?  Then I realized that I was just being a panicky East Coaster who has never been through an earthquake before.  It was gonna be fine.

Besides, I had more pressing concerns.  I left my purse and my phone inside.  Inside the building in which I was no longer inside.   So, unlike my colleagues who were furiously calling loved ones, following Twitter, and checking into the earthquake on Foursquare, I was just standing there, waiting to get back into the building so I could get my stuff, text my mom and friends, follow Twitter, and check into the earthquake on Foursquare.

Eventually, I got back into the building and got my purse.  When I turned on my phone, I was surprised – and moved – by the concern for me on Facebook.  I sure have caring friends!   My brother sent this nice text (it’s the last one):

Are you impressed that I figured out
how to take a screen shot of my text
message?  Because I sure am!

What?  Now you’re laughing?!

I survived my first earthquake but I’m fine with making it my first and last.  Let’s hope there’s a little less movement of the Earth’s plates tomorrow!

*For the friends who care - the Presidential Library mugs are fine.  More importantly, the Donald Duck curio is safe!  No Donalds were damaged during the quake!

Master of the Toast – No Bread Required

It’s rare for me to miss my afternoon nap.  It’s even rarer for me to intentionally miss it to do something that fills me with fear and dread.  But it’s a new year and I’m trying new things and having new adventures.  That’s why I found myself at a meeting of the local Toastmasters Club this evening.  Toastmasters – the club that’s been helping people “find their voice” since 1924.  I guess even back then people were terrified of public speaking!

It’s no secret – I love to talk.  But the idea of being in front of people when they’re staring at me, listening to what I’m saying, and wondering just how large the sweat rings under my armpits will get before the speech is over…well, that all petrifies me.  Only the idea of dying in a fiery inferno, doing my own taxes, and ending up in a federal penitentiary scares me more. 

I’ve always been afraid of speaking in front of people.  When I was in elementary school, I was in my church’s Christmas Pageant.  All the Catholic school kids got the good parts; the CCD kids were relegated to the secondary parts – the choir of angels and the farm animals - I was the donkey (yeah, I was a badass CCD kid).  I had one line to say – “I’m the donkey and I carried Mary to the manger.”  I got up to the microphone and timidly began – “I’m the donk – donk – donk –“  I’m pretty sure everyone in the audience was wondering the same thing – what’s wrong with the jackass?

Sure, I’ve made lots of speeches since then.  But I don’t feel like I’ve really improved since I was that jack donkey on the stage way back when.  I’m always in such a rush to get through the speech so everyone can just stop paying attention to me that I talk supersuperfastandnoonereallyunderstandswhati’msaying.  BREATHE.  Oh God, now I have to answer questions?!

I really want to become more comfortable speaking in front of large medium groups of people.  For three main reasons:  1) In my new job, I'll be doing some training in a classroom setting and I think it would be beneficial to all concerned if they understood me; 2) I’ve been going to more and more meetings and well sometimes I have things to say and I don't want to be so nervous about taking the floor, so to speak; 3) I want to be prepared just in case Oprah calls and wants me to go on a public speaking tour.  What?  It could happen.   

That’s why I decided to join Toastmasters.  I will admit that I asked the Head Toastmaster prior to my arrival if I was going to have to speak tonight.  Luckily, I didn’t.  But I had on my clinical strength antiperspirant, just in case.  Anyway, the whole thing was very chill and relaxed (well, for me at least – I wasn’t getting up in front of everyone to talk for 5-7 minutes!)  The people were super-nice and supportive because guess what – they were in my Crocs once upon a time. 

Here’s the best part.  Each speech gets evaluated and the best speakers of the night get a trophy.  Now, as much as I hate public speaking, I love a good competition and kitschy knick-knacks that can clutter up my house/car/cubicle.

So, game on Toastmasters.  That trophy’s coming home with me one day.