first and second day

I've made it through my first and second day on the new job, and I'm about to start my third. On the first day, people were incredibly nice -- helpful, professional, funny, respectful.

Yesterday, I awoke to a lot of white stuff (not unexpectedly, either -- the news media, as is typical, had been whipping us into a frenzy over the coming storm for days). It was one of those storms that was mostly rain to the south, mostly snow where we live and beyond, but windy and cold everywhere. Robert and I settled in with lots of wood for the stove, a couple of cats, a few computers, and lots of hot tea.

I wrote a note to my new boss saying that ordinarily I like to show up on my second day of work, and that -- honest -- I planned to come back, but that I was working at home. And I did get a fair amount done. Just for the record, at least on email, people continued to be nice and also helpful. Imagine that!

So today, I'll show up and keep plugging away. There are requirements to be read, doc plans to be written, people to meet.

And on what should be my fourth day at work, I'll be elsewhere (what is this?). Robert and I are going away for a quick frozen weekend at the tip of Cape Cod. It's our anniversary of being a couple, and a President's Day weekend away has become a favorite way of noting the occasion. This year, we mark our fifteenth anniversary of togetherness. I still feel like a young pup, in mind if not in body, but apparently, that's just a delusion.

more art

A few days ago, we received an invitation to an art opening for which a friend was one of three exhibitors. You bet we were planning to go. We scheduled a visit with another friend around the exhibit and in the early afternoon headed to the gallery.

One of the artists was a photographer. His photos were technically fine -- black and white, in focus, somewhat poignant, and they didn't really speak to me.

The next person was a painter. Again, fine, somewhat technically adept, and tended to choose subject matter that was just (ok, here it comes) trivial. Like a big American flag blowing over who knows what because the flag was so distracting. Or a bunny with pointed ears sitting next to a spilled vase of flowers. ho hum.

I actually met this person, who was full of enthusiasm. I said "Oh, you're one of the painters? Terrific!" (meaning, really, I'm pleased to meet you and I'm afraid to say anything else). She said "Thank you so much!" because of course, she took it as a profound compliment, and I at least felt good that I'd made her a little happy.

I was greatly relieved to discover that the friend whose work we came to see is actually good -- way way better than Ms. Terrific. Robert fell in love with the colors she used and with her brushstrokes -- spare but well-placed, like good writing. (And in fact, she is also a writer; perhaps the two disciplines inform each other in her work.)

Robert ended up buying one of her pieces, an image of a walnut grove in California. It will come to live with us at the end of the month when the exhibit is taken down. Our artist friend was honored and mentioned that the piece will go to a very good home. We are just delighted to know that her work will come to live with us. It will have a good home indeed.

the road to good intentions

me: I start my new job tomorrow.
mom: I'm sure they'll be nice to you on your first day.
pause.
mom (slight edge): Let's hope they continue to be nice to you after the first day.
silence.


OK, I *know* this was meant well. In fact, it started out in my mother's brain with incredible love and respect. And maybe you had to be there, but by the time it got to me, it was just all wrong. The funny thing is that I don't even need to put more money in the therapy fund after comments like this. I just need to vent a little, laugh a lot, and move on.

Truth to tell, I'm sure they will continue to be nice to me, maybe even into Wednesday and Thursday.

in between

The last few weeks have been somewhat hectic in that I've been preparing to leave my old job, while in my off hours I've been doing research that will help me on my next job.

My old boss, TomP, used to say "Always leave a clean campsite." So at my old place, I've been wrapping up my work by finishing writing assignments I was asked to complete, working through all the "easy" bugs that were assigned to me, and writing notes to the other writers so that they could pick up the work easily. I was also literally cleaning my desk -- packing up and washing surfaces.

And then I said goodbye, many goodbyes, actually. Many people managed to find me -- online, in email, in person -- and say something sweet and meaningful about our time together. I was taken out to lunch, given many cards with delightful messages written on them, and even received a present. I made fake "bequests" that were meaningful -- my tape dispenser went to the guy who was always borrowing it. My paper bags went to my VP who piled up loads of recyclables in his office, and so on. I brought in chocolate on the last day and invited people to stop by. A lot of folks took me up on the offer.

In my last days, I felt truly appreciated and perhaps a little loved, too. It was a nice way to go out. (Ever been around when someone's boss is actually helping them pack and carry stuff to the car in an effort to get them out more quickly?)

I'm not sure it all feels real yet, even though I've gone through the entire "term" (for termination) process.

But on Monday, I start my next job adventure. I've been enjoying my interactions with my main contacts at the new place, my next boss and the HR lady. They're both sweet, funny, effective, wildly competent. And they both keep telling me how happy they are that I'll be there. Talk about feeling the love!

Yesterday, they hesitantly told me that in the beginning, I'll be sharing an office with someone, who happens to potentially be my chief ally in the whole operation. Let's see, we're starting on the same day, we have to share space, AND we just might have to get to know one another and talk to each other. Sounds like a terrible way to start off! Actually, it sounds like a recipe for success, and I can't wait.

Meanwhile, I've been researching authoring environments (the main tool I'll use on the job). One would think that after many years in this career, I'd either have a favorite one or one would be picked out for me. But given that it's a new company and there is no documentation yet, there's also no selected authoring tool. I have a favorite for the old way I used to work, but in my just-left job, I started developing documentation using a newish technology. So now all the authoring tool companies are piling on, trying to make the best tool for this technology. At my old company, we built and used our own with the hopes of selling it, but then we backed off from that idea. So now I need to find a new tool.

I've been writing to friends at two companies with questions about their tools. Yesterday, I finally got a price for both. Wow, I'm glad I'm not a purchaser -- what a frustrating experience *that* was. Just hours before the end of the work week, I finished gathering all the information I needed and send prices and a recommendation to my new manager. (I just knew that once I started at the job, I'd never have time to do this investigation again.)

So now I'm ready to start with another clean desk, a mind that I'm rapidly wiping clean over the weekend, and I'm eager and happy and excited.

mortal danger or grand hoax

Yesterday morning on my way into work, I heard that a local area, Sullivan Square, was swarming with police and that traffic was jammed in the area. Later in the day, it turned out that there were "devices" found on bridges and other structures around the city. Still later, it came out that the Turner Broadcasting System had paid for these devices to be installed as a form of advertising for some cartoon. So the devices in the end were harmless. At the same time, their discovery caused much worry, a lot of police action, and many delays.

In my younger "it can't happen here" days, I might have rolled my eyes and said "Can't anyone take a joke?" I'm glad this turned out to be a joke/hoax, but it does illustrate how easily paralyzed our great cities could be, and it doesn't take much -- a little sneakiness at night, a little low-technology, and either a little coordination or a little time. It's the small stuff that gets you.

And what did TBS do when it discovered how upset Bostonians were? They apologized not for their boneheaded act (and it truly was boneheaded -- I mean, how dumb can you get?) but for the concern that was caused.

"We really deeply regret that it was horribly misinterpreted to be a public danger, when all it was intended to do was to draw attention to a late-night television show," they said.

Now that 9/11 has slammed home the dangers all around us, don't you think that a responsible company would seek permission to place devices with batteries and protruding wires on city infrastructure? And that maybe that permission and the ensuing announcements to the public might have garnered even more publicity but of the positive variety?

File this under "what were they thinking" and go to bed feeling even less secure than the previous night.