My department at work has been restructured over the last two months and because of this, there were a lot of changes that needed to take place. The biggest change was that we were moving desks, getting rid of old filing cabinets, getting new filing cabinets, and moving our payroll department into the adjacent office. With all moving, cleaning, and clearing out, we decided to have a dress down day where we shut the office to get ourselves organised. I love organising things, so I am always eager for these kind of days. And then there is the reality that I just love any excuse to wear jeans to work!
I woke up that morning and felt especially excited about the day. I get to wear jeans and my favorite OU t-shirt. I was rumaging in my closet when I found that my favorite pair of jeans were clean. I have had these jeans for years so I took a good look at them debating on whether I wanted to clean in them or not. These were my favorite jeans but they were also my oldest which made them the best candidate for cleaning. The only problem was a small little tear near the crotch. I took a good long look at it and couldn’t decide if it was worth the risk. I showed them to Ben who said, “It is only one day, they’ll be fine.” So with that vote of confidence I put them on and headed to work.
We had a great morning. We got the majority of the moving done by around 10:30 and even though Ben had said I would be fine, I found myself being cautious when I was bending down. For those of you who know me, you will completely understand why I felt especially cautious. We had finished all the big stuff and were now just moving small boxes. It was then that I made my fatal mistake. I bent down to pick up a heavier box and in order to use my legs instead of my back (as they always tell you to do), I pushed my knees out a bit like a frog and that was all it took. I heard the rip and suddenly I felt a woosh of cold air hit my inner thigh. I looked up with panicked eyes to my colleague who had heard the same thing. She quickly made sure none of the guys came over to our side of the room. I needed to assess the damage before I tried going anywhere, so I bent down and looked between my legs to find a three inch tear all along the seam of my favorite jeans. Oh man! Thankfully it was on the inside of my leg and wasn’t really that obvious to anyone who didn’t know it was there. Still, I needed to change pants.
I grabbed my sweatshirt and wrapped it around my waist and sat on the floor and organised folders until lunch. We were going to order lunch and thankfully the pizza place is near my flat, so I just had my colleague drop me off so I could quickly change pants. I walked in the house to find Ben making lunch and he looked at me quizically as I dashed into our bedroom. He came in and asked what I was doing home and it was then that I tossed my jeans at him for him to see how his advice had worked out. This of course sent him into a fit of laughter and made me question if he had really thought I would make it a whole day in my pants, or if he was just hoping this exact scenario would occur! As funny as the moment was (for everyone else), I found myself a little sad. My favorite jeans had just died. Right along with my dignity. So much for my professionalism. 🙂
I am now gainfully employed. Well, I am employed at least. I am working in the HR department of one of the oldest car companies around. Literally, they celebrated their 102 anniversary this year…crazy. I started working on Monday and let me just say what a LONG week it has been. After four months of reading, meeting up with friends for coffee or tea, watching movies and getting up whenever I want (which was never before 9am), the last three days have been painful. However, I have a job, so I am thankful.
I was hired knowing that the first few weeks I would be helping them get organized as they have been a bit back-logged the last few weeks. I should say so. I have spent the last 24 hours at work filing. Non-stop. I haven’t ever filed this much. I don’t know how my good friend Gerry did this every day. Well, he didn’t, because his filing room was beautifully organized and manageable. This one is like stepping into a black hole. Anyhow.
I split my time between the filing room and my desk where I alphabetize thousands of pieces of paper. You should see my fingers…yikes. This afternoon I was at my desk checking the HR database to see which employees were active and which ones were not, listening to everyone around me chatter on about random tasks and projects. Today was some kind of departmental review day so all the HR business partners (our bosses) were there as well as a few guys from IT who were fixing things. Then there were the five people I sit with and the HR director. The room was packed. In these settings, I become a bit overwhelmed as the various accents all meld together to sound like an entirely different language. It was at this point that a man from IT suddenly barged in and everyone went silent. He looked around and asked if anyone was in the HR database. Someone behind me quickly said, I can see that at least one person is. That person was me.
I looked over my shoulder and said, “do you want me to help you with something?” He looked at me and opened and closed his mouth but for the life of me I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I quickly turned around toward my computer hoping he would come over and just tell me what he wanted me to look up, but he didn’t follow. He started speaking and again, I couldn’t understand anything he said. What was wrong with me?!! The man was clearly speaking english as everyone else seemed to understand, but the words were so smashed together that I couldn’t decipher anything he was saying. I said, “pardon, but what would you like me to do?” At this point he just stared at me. My face burned as I knew everyone in the room was listening to this whole exchange probably wondering what in the world is wrong with the new girl?! I quickly glanced at the girl to my left and she said (loudly I might add), “he wants you to get out of it.” Oh!!!! I reached for the mouse and hit the close button as soon as she uttered the words. I couldn’t get out of that program fast enough.
Thankfully the man smiled and then walked out the door. I turned back to my seat as everyone slowly started talking again. I just pushed stacks of paper to and fro for a few minutes as I was too embarrassed to look up or say anything. Eventually I got back to work and pretended like nothing ever happened. Now I know if that guy ever walks in again, don’t turn around and offer any help. Let someone else do the talking and I will just automatically close out of all programs I am currently in. Seems like a good plan until I get Rosetta stone, “crazy mushed english version.”