And so it began...

In spite of my "tread lightly" approach, I was hired for the job of "Secretary III" and conviently ignored the bits of the job description I was leery of. I pretended words like agenda, scheduling, and meeting minutes were outside my vernacular because I was more intrigued with words like newsletter, white paper, and communications. It was easier that way. Since I'd been unceremoniously dumped from my research job into this new mothership-conglomerate (buy-outs are rubbish), I had little choice if I wanted a paycheck. A "Secretary III" I was - woohoo!

The first week was rather uneventful. I was given little instruction from my boss, aka: the Nutjob with the burgundy orchid. I organized my new, rather spacious cube complete with the much coveted Red Swingline (oh yes, it does exist). I attended meetings about stuff I knew nothing about. I wore cute outfits with high heels. I beat a path to the cafeteria after discovering the deliciousness of the free, instant chai packets. I called committee members to tell them a meeting had been canceled in case they'd missed the Outlook meeting cancelation, or the follow-up email stating the meeting had been canceled. I was again given the interview lecture about the department and how it contributed to the mothership-conglomerate. I ate soup. Nothing seemed amiss, and though that first week was a bit slow, it did appear the cogs on the wheel were turning and I was in a place where I would be needed!


Day five began with a 5:30am alarm. Early hurts, but regardless, I was going to rock the day and prove that I could be a morning person! I arrived early and promptly got lost in the bowels of the basement, aimlessly searching for the "Paiute Room" at the off-site meeting locale. Finally finding it, I was relieved to see the meeting had yet to start. A few people milled around and gathered breakfast while I placed a packet containing the agenda and handouts at each chair, each having been carefully collated and stapled with the lovely Swingline. I skipped breakfast so as not to impair my minute taking responsibilities. This extra step turned out to be completely unnecessary since there were few opinions, action items, or even interest ... about anything.

At the meeting's conclusion I booked it to the restroom. One cannot be a bright and chipper morning person without copious amounts of coffee thus necessitating bathroom breaks. Upon my return, I filled a plate with danish and fruit and sat down to happily consume a completely free breakfast. I attempted to nonchalantly listen to the chatter around me but was specifically tuned in to the Nutjob,  who just happened to be talking about moi. I was slightly outside of her designer-glassed peripheral vision.

"She's got her English degree and she wants to get her Masters and I think it'll work out just fine ... but she really has a lot to learn."

Suddenly my free breakfast wasn't so delicious anymore. A knot developed in my stomach as I considered what she'd just said, what it meant, and the nerviness of saying it 12 feet from where I sat. Who does that? I freely admit that on occasion I may have something to say about somebody, however at the very least I understand that you say that something behind their back.

Having never before been in this situation, I wasn't really sure what I should do, but then Nutjob brought the individual she'd been speaking with over for an introduction.

Awkward.

For me, anyway. Nutjob pretended nothing was wrong whatsoever. All I could think was that this person I didn't even know already thought me a complete failure. What an introduction. "This is Darcie; this is She-who-has-much-to-be-learned." What could I say but, "Hi, it's nice to meet you."

I walked to my car dejected, deflated, and shocked. Driving back to our office I considered going home and not even bothering to continue in this lame-ass job I was already failing miserably at. I considered crying but had no tears, instead I called my boyfriend - the voice of reason. He convinced me that it could've meant anything and I had just started the job, perhaps she was literally saying that I really did have a lot to learn about this amazingly complicated department and its mothership-conglomerate. But I knew, I knew it didn't. I knew then and there that this woman had some craw to pick with me. Maybe she didn't like my heels, or the obvious abuse of the free, instant chai packets. Maybe I unknowingly slurped my soup.

The remains of the day went by in a blur and once I returned home my voice of reason asked me how I was going to proceed, except I didn't know. If I'd done something horribly wrong, it should've been brought to my attention. There was that meeting in which I'd failed to bring photocopies of the previous meeting's minutes, but that was easily remedied in 5 minutes with a photocopier. Not to mention nobody had said to me it was even a requirement. Was that my great faux pas? If so, I was in for a heap of trouble.

Tell me: Ever been in a similar situation? If so, what did you do?