Working Girl

I've been waiting to get a quiet moment at home or a peaceful weekend afternoon to sit down and write. It seems like that isn't going to happen too soon. My brain is crammed pretty full lately and even in off hours I haven't been able to quiet down as much as I would like. So I'll do this and fits and starts and see how it goes.

To recap slightly. I now work at a regional center that provides services for people with developmental disabilities. I am a counselor, which is like a case manager. I am the contact person for the families to help them get services or to refer them to other resources that are available for their children. We are not a state agency technically but are contracted by the state to provide these services and to coordinate with other agencies to provide job placement, housing, healthcare, a variety of therapies etc for individuals from birth through adulthood. There are about 300 employees at this regional center; there are 24 of them around the state of California.

I started on Monday December 29. An atypical week but not the worst one in which to start. I worked Monday and Tuesday, then had two paid holidays for New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. I still can't believe that they are paying me for those. Many people had taken off for the holidays so it was a couple of very quiet days.

The regional center occupies space in three buildings located in row. They are nearly identical and each is arranged around an open courtyard. My longstanding spatial deficits are highlighted by this arrangement. My high school records which I recently accessed show a long history of this deficit, going back to grade school testing. All the verbal and written skills scores were pretty high (if you have been reading this blog that can hardly be a surprise) but the spatials were extemely low. As in ones or zeros. At the end of my first day it took all my powers of concentration to make it back to my car without it being obvious that reaching that goal was at all in question.

During my first two days my boss took me on a tour of these three buildings. I was introduced to a lot of different people and she took the opportunity to explain the functions of the different departments that we were visiting. She has been very laid back and friendly and has been at the regional center for a long time. I took advantage of her gift of gab while we were touring to shake a lot of hands, to project the vibe of 'Be nice to me, I'm pretty cool,' while simultaneously trying to remember the name of the person and what floor/building I was at. So yes, I was pretty tired at the end of those days.

Perhaps fatigue is to blame for the embarrassing incident that marked the end of my first work week. Since most of the bathrooms are located on the outside walkways, require a key to access them I was issued a key on the first day of work, along with the keycard that allows employees access to each floor. After using the restroom before leaving to meet Fearless Hero for lunch (chicken pot pie and pie in the middle of the day is a highly recommended practice) I left my key on the vanity. Of course I didn't realize this until much later. So this required an extensive search and a return to the restaurant to inquire there. These turned up nothing so with reluctance I emailed the departments on the floor most likely to have discovered the key (My picture ID card is still on order so there was nothing to indicate who was its unfortunate owner).

So my first emailI sent in a professional capacity to anyone at my new place of work was that A. I lost something and B. it was the bathroom key. Luckily A. someone turned it in and B. there was hardly anyone there so hopefully the incident will not be forever connected to my name.

I am now the proud resident of a cubicle. Mine is an acheivement in inoffensive grey. It is slightly elevated by the presence of a sliding door of opaque plastic. Before the impression is given that this somehow signifies status, it must be stated that my cube has one only because it is situated near the entrance to the floor and is therefore subject to more foot traffic and distractions.

One thing that is very apparent is that the jargon is very thick here, acronyms abound. Somedays the language is so indecipherable that I feel like I am at a Star Trek convention and everyone is speaking Kilngon. "The PST only applies when the client has ABA through TORT. Fill out a QPD to apply for review by the RNC committee." It's a bureaucracy so there is a dizzying amount of policies and procedures to learn.

The first thing I did on my first day was to meet with human resources and fill out a stack of forms. Stack doesn't seem to capture the amount of paper I received. I was also given an emergency kit in a red drawstring backpack. Inside was a cardboard box which contained pouches of emergency water rations and dried food. I found this very unsettling as it engendered thoughts of being trapped under heavy post-earthquake beams, waiting to be rescued from the rubble.

Office etiquette and politics are something that I only have the equivalent of a grade school level education, I have a feeling soon I will have a master's degree. Stay tuned.

One of the biggest things that has struck me during my first three weeks is the incredible diversity of the regional center. There are people of various ethnicites from various states and countries. Many languages are spoken on a daily basis. There is also a wide variety of backgrounds and paths that lead people to be working with people with disabilities. There are also quite a number of college affiliations, which is quite a big deal. I made a mental note to myself during the first week to get a college/pro football/basketball affiliation immediately.

The regional center appears to have a very collaborative atmosphere, the positions are filled with people who are willing to help. While there is a lot to learn, there is never the expectation that one needs to be an expert on everything, just to learn who to tap for their knowledge and experience. There will be stressful situations, deadlines, bureaucratic limitations and difficult families to contend with, which is the reason that they say it takes about a year to learn the job. That is quite a daunting statement, I hope that I am up for the challenge. But I am looking forward to the chance to work as a team and learn something, or many somethings, new everyday.

I will be responsible for about 70 families and unfortunately even though I am still in training, their lives and concerns don't pause. Other people have been putting out the fires but things are still behind. Now it is easier as no one expects much from me, especially if they run across me at about 3:45 when I get that glazed look at my face that signifies "Brain full. No more new information can be absorbed." The first few times this feeling came over me, it made me feel panicky. Lately it just kind of makes me giggle. It's like theater of the absurd. It's scarier to contemplate the point when they will expect me to know what I am doing. One parent left a message requesting a meeting to fill out some complicated government paperwork. Good thing it was only a voicemail, if the conversation had taken place in real time I would have responded, "You and me both."

Which brings me to the phone. I didn't touch it for the first few days, the sheer number of extra buttons was overwhelming. The red light was on ominously. I changed the outgoing message during my first week when there was no one around so I could minimize the embarrassment of having to do it over and over and over again. The lovely lady informed me that "You have seventeeen messages." I hung up that phone like it was on fire. Apparently they never changed the outgoing message after the counselor who preceeded me left. It took several rounds of emails and some haranguing but I finally can access the phone, and more frightening, the messages.

The building where I work is located in a busy retail street. The street where I turn in is actually called restaurant row (which contains Benihana, El Torito, Marie Callendar's, Elephant Bar) that doesn't include all the other outlets directly nearby. There is also a strip mall that shares our parking area that has a Starbucks. Having that so close proximity is dangerous. I am used to a much different scenario, where the only food readily available is a school lunch that is served on a plastic tray. The scent that permeated the building in the hour before lunch was usually enough to at least dissuade one from ordering lunch, if not kill your appetite altogether. When my boss was taking me on the grand tour, three different people warned me that in the first year of working there they gained ten pounds. Sheesh. My plan is to pretend there is only school lunch available and to drink lots of tea.

Which will keep me warm. I have a myth to bust and I don't want to disillusion anyone. I also hesitate to bring this up as I am writing this during the coldest night in 13 years back in Wisconsin. But here it is. It's not always warm and sunny here. Even though I know that the main problem is me and my confused body, I am often cold at work. As in freezing-keeping-my-coat-on-all-day-taking-breaks-to-run-the-stair-having-my-mom-send-my-long-underwear cold. Because it never gets that cold here the buildings aren't insulated the same. It is often damp and takes the buildings awhile to heat up. By then I am exhausted from shivering.

It's hard to dress California-like when all want is to be wearing wool and all the thick-soled shoes that my friend Judi made me get rid of when I moved (it's hard to describe how deeply they offended her finely honed shoe aesthetic). Our apartment has heating issues as well. The space heater is my best friend. Believe me, the irony is not lost on me that since moving the california Fearless Hero and I have become owners of an electric blanket (with dual heat controls, or he would roast. His body has normal temperature retaining qualities and actual consistent body heat). I have purchased several warm sweaters, a wool coat, and warm fuzzy boots. Fearless Hero got me soft fleece robe for Christmas. In return, one of his gifts from me was a DVD that has life-like action picture of a burning fire that turns your TV or computer screen into a fireplace. There's crackling and everything. We put this space heater right next to the screen and it is almost like having a real fireplace.

So when I take a break to make a cup of tea or am resting in between figuring out dueling computer programs, I look around the office and wonder how the heck I got here. This of course happened on my first day of work. I was eating lunch in my cube, enjoying the greyness, when I got an email that could not have been more perfect.

My first job was probably the best job I will ever have, I was extraordinarily lucky. I worked with a deaf student who is one of the coolest kids I have ever known. Our personalities and senses of humor were a great fit and we had a lot of fun during our school days for the six or seven years we worked together. He is out on his own now and is a new father. We haven't seen each other in awhile, on his birthday I set him messages to every number and address I had. His reply came as I was finishing my sandwich. It was the best part of my day. He is doing well, by the way, and his baby girl is beautiful. Getting his email both emphasized the surreality of the day and somehow helped me make peace with where my life has brought me.

So that's where I am so far in my life as an office working girl. There is sure to be much more so stay tuned.