Strangely Strange

Despite two cups of chamomile tea made with two teabags apiece and a squirt of valerian at bedtime, I woke up at 2 a.m. or so Monday morning and never went back to sleep. While I was awake I read the final page of the second Wiegers book, at least. I’d planned to ride my bicycle downtown but had too much stuff to schlep with me, so I took a cab and gave the driver an astronomical tip to bring me good luck my first day on the job.

It was strangely familiar and also strangely strange to be back in a cubicle farm. This one is located in the heart of the financial district, and is very, very quiet, and people are definitely more dressed up than at my former job, though not quite in business wear. I don’t have a window cube, but I’m not far from a large window, so it’s fine in that respect.

The administrative assistant who has been so kind and welcoming and who has handled so many details for me helped me with more stuff, and stopped by in the afternoon to say hello and see what I needed. She didn’t say “Do you need anything?” but rather “What do you need?”, which I thought was nice. She’d left office supplies in my cube and a mug with the company logo on it—my favorite company! On top of everything else, against all odds, my pal Venkata works in this very group now.

Igby, my one peer in this location, was also friendly, and told me how much she likes our boss, who strikes her as being very down to earth. She says the group is flexible about hours and comings and goings, which she thinks is important—because you work for many years of your life, you should love your job, she said.

In my interview, my manager-to-be, Takworth, asked for my thoughts on working with difficult people, because he said his group works with some. I happen to be an expert on that, because my former group was home to the world’s biggest jerk. However, I’m delighted that this time, evidently, the difficult person isn’t in my own group.

Of course, I felt beyond dreadful from lack of sleep, but Takworth isn’t giving me anything to do this week. I get to spend it wrapping up the temporary position, so I didn’t have to strain my head. Igby mentioned that she uses Excel, and a warm glow suffused me: my friend works here!

I discovered I’d lost the final crucial five pounds that were keeping my formerly rather nice-looking thrift store work pants up, so at lunchtime, I rushed to Macy’s to buy a belt. I also was starving three hours before quitting time, long after my lunch was safely tucked inside me. I’d forgotten how famishing sitting in a cube can be.

It was strange to be so far from C. The geographical distance isn’t great, but it’s two different worlds in every other way. I left him a quick voice mail from a conference room and felt as if I were phoning another planet.

After work, I met Lisa C. at Esperpento and she treated me to a super-yummy celebration dinner: spicy potatoes, grilled asparagus, roasted eggplant and a delectable sautéed cabbage dish. It was so good, and that was so lovely of her.

I’ve decided the idea of reading if one can’t sleep is not a good one, though I’m also recalling that you’re not supposed to do it while lying in bed. You’re supposed to go sit in a chair so that your bed remains primarily associated with sleeping. But I think I’m better off just lying there awake, so I did that last night when I woke up at 3 a.m., and did go back to sleep after a bit, and felt rather better today.

I remembered that the too-large pants I wore yesterday are the smallest of my four pairs of thrift store pants, so I tried on the others first thing today, and sure enough, I can’t leave the house in any of them. Even with the new belt deployed, the effect was strange—I see now that the placing of belt loops is a fine art—but fortunately, I have a new pair of LL Bean pants I was planning not to wear until I compared them with the next larger size, so I wore those, and they were perfect. Oh! Indeed they are called Perfect Fit, and they are comfortable and look nice.