Failure of the Day: Free Soda and Tampons

After five days and no fewer than ten meetings, I have to say, my new job is going pretty well, I think. I haven’t yet tripped and fallen down in front of anybody, and I haven’t yet blurted out anything inordinately stupid, and that’s pretty much the best I could have dared hope for. It’s only a matter of time before I do both of those things, but for the time being, I’m enjoying all this assumed dignity.

The commute is pleasant enough on the train, although the evening connection from the shuttle to the train is maddening. The shuttle arrives 5:21 but the train leaves at 5:18. Two of the five days this week, though, the train was late, so I caught it, but not without some ungainly running on my part. Apologies to all witnesses of that unfortunate spectacle. It couldn’t be helped; the next train isn’t until 5:52. I suppose it won’t matter once I get my laptop—I can write for that extra half hour on a sticky bench in San Carlos as easily as I can in my lovely green office at home.

The company is excellent on first blush—I enjoy Diet Dr. Pepper, and if you think I am above hoarding tampons, you are sadly, sorely mistaken. My co-workers are all quite nice if a bit ahem snoopy (so hey, y’all, belated welcome to my blog). I am likewise delighted with my first cubicle—I have a window!—and say what you will about Cubeland, it beats the crap out of “open” office spaces.

Today we went to the Great Mall in search of lime green post it notes and returned instead with a lime green bathrobe. Some might call this a mistake. The robe though is obscenely soft, and despite the 70 degree Thanksgiving we’re about to have, it’s bound to get cold eventually. What I mean to say is: Thanks to everyone who sent congratulations and defended my initiative, but I still doubt the causal universe.