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A Good Sulk in My Room

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Work has been a tiny bit bumpy lately.  I’m in a very new and different sort of office environment, and working in an entirely different field; one with its own concerns, jargon, priorities, duties, and responsibilities.

As with any job, the basics were easy enough to learn – but also, as with any job, there’s a point when you have to level-up and do some more complicated stuff.  And it’s stuff that my boss and my co-worker already know about – because they’ve had a history in this field – but I not only don’t know, but don’t always think to ask about.  And so the only way that I find out that I should have done something is when my boss asks me if I’ve done it, and I sort of cringe inwardly and say “uh, no?” and her eyes get big and then I have to scramble.

It’s part of the normal growth cycle, though – I’ve just moved out of the dorky bouncy cute puppy stage and I’m now in the gangly awkward clumsy teenager stage, where you’re old enough to not be treated like a baby but there are things that routine experience hasn’t taught you yet.  It’s uncomfortable and icky and clumsy, but – compared to the rest of your life, it’s comparatively short.  And, my boss and my co-worker do get it – when I was updating my boss about some ball I dropped but then managed to re-catch last night, I mumbled apologetically that this was part of a learning curve and she said, “listen, I’ve been doing this stuff for 10 years and you’ve only been doing it three months.  It’s okay; you’re learning.”  She also soothingly told me I was learning pretty fast, which helped.

But I’m still having some uneasy flashbacks to the kind of moods I had when I was fifteen, when I would hole up in my room with my Genesis CDs and not talk to anyone because they didn’t understand that mine was a tortured life, and I’ll be glad to see the back of that.

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