Thus I worked it out

Thus I worked it out
November 1 - 18, 2001
on new perils of being employed.



	In the middle of November, California arrives at the least attractive phase of autumn. Hills, dried out by the summer heat, are still catching up with green that's coming.

My job searching was a boring and annoying affair, hence I had not described it in these journals. I sat daily at a computer, browsed job offers on the internet's dedicated servers, and wrote e-mails. On some days, even weeks, I did not find a single interesting entry, so I kept widening my range of acceptable vocations. In fact, I would have applied for anything from a janitor to general manager, though in the midst of a deep economic downturn, I surely was not alone.

There were currently thousands of laid off engineers in the Valley, who were searching for new jobs just as desperately as I was. Normally "unattractive" positions were suddenly swamped with hundreds of applicants. I generally gave up all hope and decided to enjoy my mother's visit, expecting some temporary help opportunity in a supermarket before Christmas, where I could earn a dollar or two, immersed in a rush of Santa Clauses. With that thought, I simply dropped any and all responding to classified. What the heck -- from those several hundreds of companies I e-mailed, only three (3) bothered to reply on a note that they had received my application and put it to their database etc. blah blah blah.



	Good morning! Work is swallowing me whole, even before I manage to climb into my representative stall.

Eventually, just in time, I found a decent job of a general administrative assistant for a (apparently) solid company; they even offered quite average pay, in these non-average times. Still, times got harder for me.

Until November 1, our household operated according to an ingenious "anti-traffic" system. Road jams culminate around nine in the morning and six in the evening. Thus, we slept till nine, Sid rolled out by ten to his work, and twenty minutes later, he walked, well rested and beaming with energy, into his cubicle (U.S. companies support floor-sized office spaces, divided by shoulder-height partitions into hundreds of personal "offices"). If he started 20 minutes before nine, he would arrive at approximately same time, with the difference that all his nerves would be in tatters. Our way, everything ran as smooth as butter, he only had to adequately extend his evening and leave late, which in turn made him smartly avoid the evening rush hour. Idylic. We ate a late dinner and went to bed after midnight.

Starting with November 1, we have to get up (that is, I have to, but I can't avoid waking Sid) by seven. I leave for work at eight, to be there by eight thirty, and unlock doors, collect delivered newspapers, roll up our window blinds, make coffee, and generally prepare for the onrush of all (three) other co-workers. Theoretically, I have a one hour lunch break, and since our office is right in the heart of the most famous (= most snobby and pricy) shopping center in vicinity, many women would envy my location. I, on the other hand, develop skin rashes when looking for too long into a shop display, and I definitely don't appreciate the larger environment of my workplace. Instead of running from one superstore to another, I really just eat at lunchtime. There a place around a corner, where I can, for $7.33, eat unlimited volume of salads, pizza, soups, pasta, desserts and fruit. Frankly, I'd rather prefer something Asian and most of all, warm, but our wonderful Shopping Center further offers only a wide range of more or less tasteless sandwich joints.

My work ends at five thirty -- if you're really interested, in my role of universal assistant, within couple days I managed to:

Receive a citation for illegal parking (nobody told me that it is forbidden to park in front of our office; fortunately, my colleagues cleared this faux pas up with local security).
Cancel a phone line that connected us to a remote control of our air conditioner, so that it can no longer be remotely controlled (THIS was NOT my idea, thank God )
Find a twenty dollar mismatch in ten thousand dollar phone bill (no difference between Czech Telekom and American PacBell -- same old frustrating hassle).
Assemble shelves in our storage room and re-organize its contents -- I look forward to somebody trying to find something there.



	For this number of windows, and their summary area, many a manager would happily sell his own grandmother to slavery. Parking lot down there is full during the day; Cecilia shown on the picture may park there only for a moment, before Hippo will drive her away.

Put our director into an excited state -- for about twenty minutes, I passionately defended the budget for an order of indispesable office supplies like: a box of tea, office clips and scissors. In the end, I was told to consult with him only purchases exceeding fifty dollars.
Install Czech language support into Windows XP (when we can have Korean there, why not Czech?).
Fax one document three times (a digital combo of fax / copier exhibits the feature that it would not indicate whatsoever, whether faxing happened, and if, whether correctly or not).
Flood our kitchen with coffee (a colleague showed me this trick on the my first day, I simply did not think I would repeat within a week).
Scan, load into Outlook, sort, and correct entries for approximately four hundred Korean business cards, with about half of them in the name of Kim (this I consider a very tough assignment).
Baffle my Korean colleagues with my knowledge of their favourite Korean restaurant in the Valley.
Call a serviceman to fix a burnt lightbulb in our elevator (the toughest thing was finding out WHO services elevators, an endeveaur reminding me of a fairy-tale about a rooster and a hen).
Find out, who is responsible for a rainwater leak in a coridor (it's the architect -- our vents have vertical windows, which allow even a playful wind blow the rain in)

and a couple of other boring details that I will not bother you with. I also managed to grow blisters on both of my heels, both little toes, ane one big toe. Twice, I collapsed with cramps in my feet at home in the evening (my only good pair of shoes was my wedding one, and I did not walk on high heels for several years). Besides, I'm grumpy in the morning, because of the early getting up, and in the evening, because of being tired. And my working week is only four days, Monday through Thursday. How I used to deal with working five days a week? I don't know :-) . Thus, I'll have to work it out...

[Previous] [Home] [Next] [Write] [Česká verze]