My paralyzing fear dissipated somewhere along the line. I slept for ages last night (I think I went to bed before eight), and I never had the heart-racing nervousness I expected. It was colder this morning than I thought it’d be, and I waited ten extra minutes for the bus because the 7:50 simply never showed up.

This is why, by the way:
School Bus, Metro Bus Crash Injures Four

That’s about a mile from my house, at the bottom of the hill where the 12C/D turns to go through my neighborhood. The accident happened around 7, so while it wasn’t the bus on the way to get me yet, it was probably the same bus that should have. I’m glad I didn’t find out about this until I got home.

I got to the IMF around 9:05 because of the missing bus, got through security with minimum ridiculousness (I did have to get wanded because I set off the metal detector, probably with the buckles on my shoes). Then I asked for the tough cookie at reception, and they left two messages. At 9:30 I called the staffing company to ask for another contact, and she gave me two more names, including the guy who actually interviewed me. The cookie never appeared all day, but the second person, the Mac support guy, was away from his desk because he’d been waiting for me at the other building’s entrance. Oops.

I was given a very nice cube with a very nice desk. I have a bookcase, two overhead cabinets (though one is locked and I don’t have the key), a really cool rolling drawer unit with a padded top that’s obviously designed to be a guest seat (seriously, how smart), and an L-shaped desk made of three units. The cord-management nonsense that’s usually ignored in these desks and cubes is actually properly set up, so plugging things in is really easy. The desks have an interchangeable crank thing to adjust their heights, which is also cool, and my chair has seven adjustment levers. Opposite the entrance to the cube is a usually-closed office door. The office’s occupant seems perfectly nice, but we haven’t actually been introduced. My point is that my cube doesn’t face another cube, and really no one can see me.

The phone isn’t set up yet, though it does work internally. I have a PostScript laser printer on my desk (a welcome first) and every part of a Dell PC except the actual computer (which is supposed to show up tomorrow). And, because the only person I really spent any time with today is the Mac support guy, I already have a G5 tower (another first) and a brand-new 20“ Apple display. This is a beautiful computer. I kept petting it. There are still G4s in service there, but you gotta respect an organization whose default new Mac install is a dual-processor G5 and a widescreen flat-panel display.

Note I am using the PC’s mouse. I can’t stand a mouse without a scroll wheel anymore.

In a big fuck-you to Shelley, I drank not one but two Cokes at my desk today, and I even ate lunch (a chicken caesar salad) there. The cafeteria is almost as good as the one at the Bank, which is pretty cool. Many stations, many cuisines, many choices. I never actually asked if I could eat at my desk, but I guess it’s alright, since no one said anything, and the salad was right there in the open while I picked the cheese and croutons out of it all afternoon.

The office is a little cold, and the tunnels and hallways and elevators are an ineffable mystery. I’ve figured out how to get from my desk to the publications/graphics department and how to get from my desk to the outside world and how to get from my desk to the tunnel that connects the two buildings. How to do any of those in reverse is still a little fuzzy. If it wasn’t all mostly below ground level (no cell phone reception except if you stand under a skylight), I’d consider it a fair excuse to buy a GPS. It’s seriously daunting. I didn’t even pee today because I’m not quite sure where the bathroom is, and you need a badge to come back into the office after you go. I sincerely hope I get my badge tomorrow. If I don’t, it’ll be Thursday, as they don’t take pictures on Wednesdays.

Lastly, as most of my family and close friends know what my hourly rate is, I feel no guilt in stating that today I made two hundred and forty dollars. That’s … a lot of pudding.

I could not be more paralyzed with fear. I’m supposed to report to someone who isn’t any of the four people who interviewed me, which is odd. I haven’t gotten up early or taken a shower in the morning or anything sensible in ages. I don’t know if I even CAN get up early enough to arrive downtown at 9am, which I never really had to do (I used to work 10ish to 7ish at CDI, the alternative being 9ish to 7ish). I have no idea what the dress code is, and I only really have two good pairs of pants. I’ve been sick with the flu, allergies, and a cold since last Sunday, and while I can breathe a little better today, my entire face is chapped and red. The staffing agency girl told me very early on that the man who manages their contract staff at the IMF is “a tough cookie.” I was interviewed by permanent staff, not contractors, and told that my contract would be separate from the embedded staff arrangement the cookie manages. Of course I’m supposed to ask for the cookie when I get in tomorrow. I’ve never met him and I’m scared of him. What on earth does it mean when a man is described as “a tough cookie”? The scenario in my head has me showing up late through no fault of my own, the front desk security staff being unable to locate this man because he isn’t permanent staff, and him showing up as some sort of cigar-chomping Edward G. Robinson type and telling me I’m underdressed and that broads (he says “broads” in my head) are expected to wear skirts or dresses. I could not be more paralyzed with fear.