New Job Blues

I have a new job. Someone should now clue me in as to the identity of the 80s song that pops into my head every time I say or type those words: some 80s Brits singing in harmony "I've got a new ??? (life? job? girl?) that's what I (am? have?). Clearly, whatever it is, it didn't sink in too deep, only deep enough for the ear worm to kind of fire up on cue and then dismally sink down into the depths of my brain.

That, in a nutshell, is kind of how I feel about my new job. I don't have a clue what I'm doing, what I'm supposed to be doing, why I was hired, or, in fact, anything else. I have kind of figured out the computer, but I still don't understand the voice mail, and I haven't clocked in yet, because I'm afraid of the restaurant downstairs and the POS. I don't know how to find my way to Rat Alley to check the dumpsters, although I was told to check on the cardboard recycling, and also that I could smoke there, but I don't know how to get there again without walking through two restaurant kitchens, which seems disruptive at the least - and not to mention that I am terrified of going anywhere affectionately called Rat Alley. And, I feel weird just moving around the restaurants, where I know noone, like I really work there. Which, of course, I do, but it feels oh so strange.

I am lost. I downloaded the free 30 day trial of Pagemaker, and made some posters for St. Patrick's day, which weren't the best things I've ever done, but I spent a horrible amount of time on them. And then, of course, I couldn't turn them into .pdfs, so I ended up emailing them to my friend D. at the museum, getting him to print them on the good printer without anyone seeing, and then meeting me at the copy shop to put them on green paper. My new boss seemed like he liked them. I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing. I told him grandiosely that I was going to write up a whole marketing plan and he seemed enthused; now, how does one do that? I set up a lot of meetings with ad reps from all over the place, I researched some stuff - in other words, I'm not just sitting there - but I'm lost.

And alone. I'm by myself in this big office all morning, not sure what the hell to do, and when I go out to smoke, there is noone out there. I never knew how busy Pack Square was until I got to Wall Street - there is NOONE on Wall Street at 10 am and I feel, smoking, like a fish in an aquarium, with all the blank glass windows of boutiques and unopened restaurants staring out at my humble lost self.

So. New Job. And I am being really good and not posting at work, so. There you are. More money, more money. Yes, more money.