Sunday, April 30, 2006
Nervous
Lately I have been wondering what in the world did I get myself into when I took this job. Maybe it's me. Maybe I need to toughen up more, or maybe I'm simply still trying to adjust after a month. It seems that Mr. Yellow is pleased with my work. I received an email a few days ago with a small compliment that simply said "you're doing a great job." Then I spoke with his brother a few days ago. Mr. Yellow's brother, the married guy, finally figured out that I work for his brother. However, he claimed he would remain professional and wouldn't dare mention anything to Mr. Yellow about knowing me. He did converse with his brother a few days ago and asked him how were things going with his new people. Mr. Yellow told him as well that he is pleased with me thus far.
"He likes you. I can tell. Just as long as you work hard and do what he ask you are fine. He is more hard on his designers since that is the main job function of his business. He expects his people to on top of things. Only thing about my brother, he is like me. When something is bothering him, he will take it out on people."What's funny is the fact that all of the things I have been hearing on how Mr Yellow is... about him being a stand-off-ish kinda person or may appear cold when he really isn't... I've gotten a sense of this but not really. There seems to be some type of discourse between us, but there is still some distance. For the most part I feel comfortable in his presence, except during the times when I feel nervous. I get nervous at times, because I wonder if I'm on top of things like I should. Even though my primary duty is to serve as the assistant editor of the magazine, techinically because I'm still under the firm as a whole I still have to write, edit and research things for whatever projects come in for the company.
Did I follow up with this person? Did I contact this person that Mr. Yellow asked of me the other day? Did I send a courier to pick up the package to take ot the printers? Did I call the courier to pick up the package from that person? Oh God the magazine! I need to schedule an interview with this person. I need to find a subject matter for this feature. What? Such and such declined? I need backup! What? This writer can't commit to this article! I need to switch the story off with another writer. A conference in Chantilly? I have to report on it for this issue. What about press passes? How soon do I need to get an outline to May so she can start soliciting for ads?
These are questions that I have been constantly asking myself for the past two weeks. I'm trying to organize myself time wise with what is what. My days may start off smooth and organized, but by the 11 o' clock hour, the plan is thrown into the wind and I'm in full throttle with answering and returning phone calls, conducting interviews and conferencing via email.
This past Friday I was scared that I may have caused a self inflicted alcuser with my nerves running ragged. Friday morning started out pretty drab, but after a brief meeting with Mr. Yellow, I got myself into gear with the day's duties. However, for some reason my brain was confused about a few things. Who were those people that Mr. Yellow wanted me to mail a copy of the magazine to? True, he had discussed it with me in the morning meeting, but my mind drew a total blank. Oh God, he yelled at one of the designers! Did he fire him? I don't know. Was Friday a good or a bad day for Mr. Yellow? I don't know. Gawd, he is calling for me to have those packages ready by the end of the day. Damnit, who were the people receiving the packages?
Between what went down within an ear shot of me with Mr. Yellow and one of the designers, and the fact that I was doing close to 100 things at one time, my nerves were pretty shot by Friday evening. I ate lunch late and could hardly finish because the nerves in my stomach were just too upset. Rather than risking the chance of making myself sick, I just threw away the microwavable entree. What did lift my spirits was a pep talk with with Ms. B. Ms. B is the Senior Editor of the magazine. Friday she called the office and I briefed her on what was going on with the upcoming issue. When I told her how a bit nervous I am about this issue, she assured me that I was going a good job and that things were coming together so I shouldn't fret.
She said a couple of other things to me, but in the end I felt a bit relieved. Her talk was just what I needed.
Earlier during the week, I went to lunch at the food court in Union Station. I was sitting at a table next to two guys that looked to be in their late 20's or early 30's. The place was crowded so my table was right up on theirs and I couldn't help to overhear their conversation. Apprently one of them has this high profile job, but is not paying enough for him.
"I was telling one of my friends what it is that I do, and she is like 'wow that's cool.' And I'm like, 'yeah it maybe cool, but it's not paying worth a damn.' That's the thing. The job looks good on paper, but the reality is the pay sucks." I almost let a smirk escape my face as I heard his comments. I know all too well his sentiments. While this job is great on paper and for the experience, I know that I will not be dropping anchor here. In the midst of the experiences that I have and will continue to gain are some of the frustrations I have come across. There are ancient Apple computers that seem to be decaying. I know it's a grandfather anytime I call tech support and they laugh when I say there is a muticolored apple icon in the upper left corner and not the solid blue icon that the newer ones have. I hate the fact that Direct Deposit is not offered. I really don't have time to keep running to the bank every week to depsosit a check. Then the biggie, appearing fake, but I'll digress from that. I'll explain that at another time, because that alone is a journal entry within itself.
I have no clue how long I'm giving myself with Mr. Yellow. Orginally, I said at least five years, but I don't know. Right now, it's to whenever I feel I have reached my job peek at the company.
Posted by KomplexPhemale ::
5:55 PM ::
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