Friday, February 26, 2010

That Very First Day

It was a cool October morning, and I donned a formal black sweater jacket I had purchased specifically for this occasion. Standing at the bus stop with a handful of other people, suitcases in hand and also dressed in business attire, I waited. I had taken the bus from my home in New Jersey into the city countless times before, except never this early or with these types of passengers. I arrived at New York Port Authority forty-five minutes later. My heels clicked importantly on the floor as I headed towards the escalator, where I walked single file down the left-hand side with the rest of the commuters who were in a rush.
I wasn’t really in a hurry, but I did want to get to work early on my first day. At 22 years of age, I was working my way through graduate school, and heading to my first real 9 to 5 job. Gone were my days as a minimum waged bookseller. I had been hired as a child development specialist at a hospital, a job that sounded way more professional than I felt. Apparently, I was qualified for the position, but I couldn’t have felt more nervous or unprepared.
When I reached the bottom of the escalator, I saw a swarm of people all headed in the same direction, down to the subway. I suddenly felt like I had become a part of something much bigger. I had joined the ranks of people who got up early, went to work, got home, ate, and went to sleep. I was proud to be a part of the club, but I also felt a slight disappointment that I couldn’t quite figure out. I chose to ignore it.
One subway transfer and five long city blocks later, I arrived at the hospital. Incidentally, this was the same hospital my mother had taken me to for most of my childhood years. I had seen the renovations made on the hospital during the summer, when I had my series of interviews, but I still couldn’t quite get used to the new look. I felt like I had stepped back into my past, but someone had tampered with the memory. I saw familiar things and unfamiliar things simultaneously, and it was only adding an unwelcome touch of the surreal to my already hectic morning.
I entered the elevator, where I was squeezed in among strangers as the elevator was filled to capacity. Slowly, we traveled floor by floor until I reached my destination, the fourth floor: Pediatrics. I got off the elevator and headed to the double doors that were to the left, as I had been instructed to do, which is where I reached my first obstacle. I reached out and pulled the handle to open one of the doors. Nothing. I tried the other one, but it didn’t budge. I pulled and pulled to no avail. Would no one help me? Apparently not. People walked past me and paid me no mind. I walked over to the registration desk, where a man was sitting at a computer. I explained my situation, stressing the fact that I was “new”, as it was my only defense. With a confused look on his face, he got up, walked over to the double doors and pushed them open. I thanked him sheepishly and quickly went inside, hoping nobody had witnessed my stupidity.
I entered a long hallway of windowless doors, all of them closed. Now all I had to do was find the doctor whom I’d never met before, but who was supposed to be my supervisor. Checking my notepad for the correct room number, I walked slowly towards room A124. I hesitated before knocking. There’s something about a closed, windowless door that is so uninviting.
I took a deep breath and knocked quietly, but nobody answered. I knocked louder, but after a quick look around, it was obvious that not one person had arrived to work on this floor. I checked my watch. It was 8:57am. With nowhere to sit, I stood in front of the door, trying not to look or feel foolish. Surely someone would appear in three minutes.
Fifteen minutes later, I was still standing there when someone finally appeared. Fortunately this kind woman allowed me into her office until my supervisor arrived. But by then, I just wanted the day to be over.
I don’t remember anything more about that first day at work, but I do remember not feeling the same exhilaration going home that evening as I had felt getting in to work that morning. All it took was one week for the novelty of the experience to wear off completely, because I began to realize that I was no longer free to do as I liked, but tied down by the monotonous schedule of whatever job I chose. Was this all I had to look forward to, for the rest of my life?
Although we all had our vacation days, and were entitled to use them, it still felt as if taking a vacation was no longer my right, but a privilege that had to be scheduled months in advance in order to decrease any competition for specific dates. Being a rigid person by nature, and wanting to overcome this personal flaw, I felt as if any spontaneity I had hoped to achieve in my adult life was dead.
That was five years ago, and I’ve since moved on through different positions, searching for the best fit for me. I can’t say that I’ve found it yet, and I don’t know if I ever will. But I know that as long as I am physically able, unless I win the lottery or something crazy like that, I will continue to search for the job that doesn’t feel like it’s changing me into someone I’m not, or holding me back from being who I am and becoming who I know I can be.

2 comments:

  1. Sounds like you need a mentor or two.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Maybe I do...I think I'm in the right field, but I haven't found my niche yet.

    ReplyDelete