So. My first three weeks.
My first three weeks were a double-timed, whirlwind orientation combined with whatever early-phase training the powers that be had a whim to throw me into. Four days in I felt the need to put my foot down and demand some structure, which I received along with the wrath of our director. Alas, it lasted a whole two days…the structure, that is. The wrath will be harder to shake.
Most days went something like this:
- Show up when I’m told.
- Report to whom I’m told.
- Am asked one of two questions:
- “Why are you here so early?” by the person who set up my schedule
- “What do they have you doing today?” by the person who’s supposed to tell me what to do today
- At some point, treated like a misbehaving child for not being where I’m supposed to be, despite:
- being given misinformation
- being given no information
- engaging in a self-assigned task because I’ve already been waiting over an hour for some direction
- actually being where I’m supposed to be.
I felt like tennis ball: volleyed out of every court I landed in. It was the most disorganized, disjointed, unprofessional “training” I can recall dealing with, and somehow I was wrong for expecting better.
Let’s distract ourselves with a video this time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_r4byVUcyiw
But it’s okay, friends. Now I’m on the graveyard shift with one specific trainer who believes in the power of structure, so I’m thriving. I’m still being treated like a child, but at least now I’m a well-behaved one. I think I deserve a cookie.
And on my last day of that awful first phase I wore my new uniform for the first time. It’s an icky polyester that requires an extra layer, and my body shape is completely at odds with its tucked-in shirt and belted pants. So much bad. Still, when I saw myself in the locker room mirror I got unexpectedly emotional: I felt like I was part of the team again.