I was looking for a job, and then I found a job

Considering how often I write, and how easily it tends to come to me, I am really struggling with this one.  My life, as it has been for the past 12 months, has come under personal scrutiny so many times during that period that it should be easy to summarise those thoughts; those changes; those questions and doubts; those memories and triumphs; the defining days and the desperate days: the whole lot should be transcribed to the page as effortlessly as I sleep and smirk. 

Yet, I’m struggling to know what tack to take. Having, at so many junctures previously, considered and evaluated the gravity of this lifestyle change, it almost seems pointless going over it again. What difference at 12 months from 9? But that’s the very crux of it: there is a lot of difference from October. Mid-October I bemoaned the recent departure of a friend; I feared the diminishing of allies and a bleak future.  It hasn’t been half as bad as all that, and yet I find every time I’ve passed comment on working life lately, it’s been negative.  With that in mind, I feel I should reset the balance a little, and what better excuse than my first (and maybe the last, who can say?) anniversary? Notwithstanding “the monkeys at the top”, and the other inherent flaws, it won’t be much of a shock to read that I’m quite enamoured with the place, and even a fair few of the people.

The whole thing has worked its way into my psyche, in a way that I did not anticipate this “temporary” job would have the power to do. I cannot take one of my now daily cod liver oil capsules without feeling a faint affection for the colleague who bought them for me, albeit in disgust at my cracking knees. I cannot hear or read the phrase “carry on” without fondly reminiscing about another, erstwhile, colleague – and given my poster/mug/book/card, all stating “Keep Calm and Carry On”, that happens quite often.  The opening notes of “I Can’t Smile Without You” are enough to prompt a wide grin or a laugh as I recall a work joke I once made in the early days. There are other songs, places, books, TV programmes, even legal cases and the odd word, which make me think of something or someone from work. And, although that’s only natural with any acquaintances, it’s still striking to me that this “any old job” I found has created all these connections.

Looking back to yesteryear, and my first day, I really hadn’t the first clue what lay ahead. I arrived at the place half an hour early and didn’t dare go in so walked up and down the road and sat at the bus stop trying to psych myself up. I was ridiculously nervous. Worse than the first day of secondary school, worse than starting university all alone, worse than any test, except perhaps a driving test. Possibly. Needless to say, it transpired that it wasn’t that bad. Only doing half a day probably helped, and spending half of it being shown around and introduced to this crazy bunch of people definitely did. Arguably the first piece of work also did. They called it a baptism of fire the next day: my first audio-typing experience and it’s 26 minutes of some country bumpkin mumbling about an obstructed footpath! I think I would have been forgiven for wondering what the hell I had let myself in for. However, it made the more standard 1-2 minute letters that followed all the more welcome and, upon eventually receiving feedback, gave a massive confidence boost. 4 errors in 4 pages; not bad for a first go – and with hindsight, it seems likely most of them were errors of dictation rather than transcription! Muahaha.

Anyway, to quote a text message (still saved in my old phone) from the end of that first day, 12 months back:

“Well I survived my first 5 hours! Not sure how I’m gonna feel day in day out but it was all pretty harmless… When I’m up at 7 it might be a different matter…”

Fortunately it was, day in day out, also pretty harmless. Getting up at and before 7 wasn’t half as hard as I expected either, albeit the first time I’d had real routine in 3.5 years. Although some days getting out of bed remains a challenge, more often than not I want to, and that’s probably the highest compliment I can pay to my working life as it is.

I’m returning to this having gone through the anniversary itself; my second January 19^th! Fittingly I did another lengthy bit of typing, ten fewer minutes this time though, not about a footpath and not for a country bumpkin.  That would have been more commemorative but still, at least this was for someone I like.  To be honest I like most of them (although God knows I’m much happier pretending I hate everyone and everything and that remains the official party line!), but there are always those that one is happier to help than others.   My role is all about helping people, which from a historical perspective, and certainly a family perspective, is not very “me”.   Even less like me, I find I like doing it, even take pride in it and, although I’d never say it out loud (she says, whilst writing it publicly), I’d be hurt if anyone suggested I wasn’t good at it.  Indeed, I took mock offence very recently at being accused, jokingly I trust, of not being useful.  As I said on the day, my own medicine doesn’t taste very good.

I have never been a people person, never been a great communicator – bad with small-talk and telephone conversations, nervous and stuttery when talking, and with a tendency to avoid conversation wherever possible.  So where does going out of my way to assist others fit into that?  How does a nervy, mumbly, introvert become the type who wants to be at the centre of the conversation, being listened to, and making people laugh?  I think nowadays I say more in one day than I did for the whole first fortnight or so.  For the first few months in fact, aside from with the few who bothered to engage me in conversation for longer than a minute at a time, I was much more the reserved corner-dweller that I’ve always been comfortable with being.  I was a newbie with a capital “N”.  I was only the newbie for a week – thanks Nick – but I was fresh, excruciatingly shamefully so: all the questions, the doubts, second-guessing myself, forgetting people’s names, being scared to talk to people.  Wow, it seems a lifetime ago.  And it’s thanks to those who did make the effort and did give a bit of praise and appreciation that I gradually overcame that and grew into this monster that now exists, stalking the halls and smirking and spouting sarcastic barbs all over the shop… and having 20 minute, half hour, conversations with not just those left of them, but with others besides.  I am, very nearly, a sociable creature now, within my comfort zone at least, and I cannot apologise enough to those subjected to it!

It’s fair to say I may have swung to the other end of the scale from diligent introversion to loquacious cockiness, and I think it’s fair to judge that as a positive swing.  I feel very much part of the furniture, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse, and (I may have said this before) have found someone within myself that I quite like being.  Seemingly some would prefer if I retreated to silent subservience but I, for one, am much happier as I am and, indeed, (whisper it so nobody laughs) much happier with myself than I was a year ago.  This past year has been incredibly good for me and to me and I can only hope for more to come as year two begins.  I know I could do so much more, and I hope I will, but I also know I’m lucky to have even what I do now and that one should never look a gift horse in the mouth – whatever that means. 

It’s far from perfect, as I’ll be the first to acknowledge, but then, so am I.  Thankfully, for every look of death I receive, there’s four or five friendly looks of greeting or acknowledgement; for every one grievance or inflammatory comment, there’s eight to ten minor victories, statements of gratitude or compliments.  The bad days are far outnumbered by the good; the bastards are far outnumbered by those of nonchalant indifference, and those of nonchalant indifference are equalled, or potentially bettered if I’m being really positive, by those I’d dare to call friends or, at the very least, allies.  There’s been a hell of a lot of change, in the place and in me, but against expectation I’m still there and still mildly optimistic for more, positive, change.  And if a big change does come, and this proves to be the last anniversary as well as the first, I can at least reflect on the progress, the positives and, by and large, a job quite well done.  Although, if they ask… I never said that.

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~ by Lauren on January 19, 2010.