12.21.04

My first day as an official employee. It was a thrill a minute.

*Ahem*

When I walked out to Tora Torakku it could have been 3 a.m. It was that dark. Caught the train at 7 a.m.--still dark. Actually, I haven't seen the sun at all today. Just grey that lightened slightly, that's going black even as I write. Happy solstice!

Got to the shop fairly early. Went to the coffee stand and got a cup of some rotgut coffee that tasted as if it was strained through rancid beaver pelts. Meanwhile a recorded, angelic-voiced choir filled the two-story lobby with Christmas carols. We are all very lucky that it wasn't "Little Drummer Boy."

Got into the shop, and looked around at the layout. Goodness, the place is a mess. However, the job doesn't look too horrible--once I get all the little tweaks and nuances down. I will learn the clipped lingo and acronyms that pepper my co-workers' speech. Inshallah, I won't learn them too well.

I am going to make a conscious effort to be a bit aloof. I don't want to be these people's friend, I just want to do my job. Is that snooty? Or is it professional?

Since I know bupkus, I hovered and watched. Stacked many reams of paper (and I was concerned about getting too fluffy this winter), swept the back area, worked on a work order to copy a bunch of books for the Oregon Geological Society. That was interesting. The books are older, from the 1920s and 30s, and the maps are lovely. Being a map geek, it took a chunk of concentration to not open 'em up and have a good look.

Went trundling about, trying to figure out the parking situation. The train's nice, but I'm not happy with the lack of security at the station. It was okay when I was taking it in from noon to 4:00, but this early morning stuff makes me feel more vulnerable. Isn't it funny? I felt safer on the NYC subway or DC's Metro than I do on the Rose City's MAX.

I suppose it's because the NY and DC systems are somewhat closed. Only paying passengers (for the most part) have access to the platforms and trains. Portland's MAX is easily accessible from the street. There are only two intercoms per car to the driver, neither of which are easy to spot. I never see transit cops on the trains. No, I finally saw my first one last week...and I've been riding the trains since August. I dunno, it screams "Ripe pigeons for plucking," to me.

I've learned to listen to my belly when it says stuff like that.

Oh dear. The inevitable has happened. Mater tries to hold out but right around my birthday she loses it and buys a tree. HellKitty will enjoy it. I should go help her move it into the house.

Happy solstice!

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