Well, we are three weeks into the new job, so how is it going? So far, so good. The leadership team seems solid, and they appear open to the dangerous possibility that I might actually know what I am talking about. I keep qualifying my ideas to my boss like I am trying not to scare the locals, but they seem ready for me to start improving things.
We are clearly still in the forming stage. I am pushing forward, but I am also figuring out how hard I can push. The first ninety days are supposed to be about learning, listening, and acclimating, which is adorable because there are already plenty of low hanging things I can see that would make a quick difference. Patience has never been my spirit animal. Patience and I nod politely from across the bar, but we are not close.
My direct team is currently four people, with four open positions to fill. Two will be internal trainers. Two will come later and focus more on organizational change management and instructional design. The team seems to be embracing me, or they are very good liars. Either way, respect. They seem like good hearted people who want to teach, help, and make the company better. I have people with almost thirty years of experience and people who have only been on the team a few months. That is a good mix of history, fresh eyes and scars.
Now I am getting ready for some travel so I can see how things actually work onsite. I will be heading to Pueblo, Colorado, and Portland, Oregon again, but this time from the perspective of a steel mill and a shipbuilder instead of a tire shop. Industrial supply is new territory for me, so apparently my career path now includes another category of places where people can lose a finger before lunch. The main threat right now is not the travel. It is these damn steel toed shoes. I need to get them broken in before they cripple me.
I also have a week onsite at corporate headquarters in Charlotte. I have always liked Charlotte, even though every previous company I worked for seemed to have a trouble child hiding in that market. Hopefully this company gives me a better relationship with the city.
The house is still for sale, and I am getting showings. The problem is buyers seem to think a listed house means the seller is desperate and eating beans in the dark. So they keep trying to lowball the shit out of me. I have turned down two offers so far, both about thirty thousand under asking. I have a golden Covid interest rate and a remote job, so I am not panic selling like I owe money to a guy named Snake. If I have to stay another year, I will. Hey at least Mazie Mae is digging her Catio time. Pretty sure I will get a tootsie roll in my shoe when I do finally sell.
To be clear, I do want to move back to the Mitten and actually take advantage of a fully remote job. Very unlike during Covid when the world handed me geographic freedom and I used it to sit inside like a depressed houseplant. But I am not paying thirty thousand dollars for the privilege of rushing. That is an expensive panic attack, and I prefer my panic attacks to be homemade at 3am, thank you very much.
Beyond that, life is getting better. The anxiety is still there, but it is lower. Now it is all about controlling the Imposter Syndrome. I am working toward having a schedule again, and for now it is all about drinking from the fire hose while I learn industrial supply. Once my medical benefits kick in around 6/26 I will be finding a counselor who has no idea the amount of crazy shit I get to offload on them.
Wish me luck. And maybe send Band Aids for these damn shoes.
Q (no longer a jobless bum)
Q is a semi domesticated carpetbagger, homeless meat popsicle, and professional overthinker with hopes of retiring before all his friends. Skilled in the witchcraft of not giving a damn about the Joneses and fueled by a did it or damn it mentality, he wanders around with Mazie Mae, his ever salty cat with strong opinions and a powerful addiction to chicken treats. Together, they have embarked on a quest they never knew started, to find something they did not know they were looking for, in a place they have not reached yet.
His thoughts are his own.
He is no role model.
Read at your own risk.
