(no subject)
Job-wise, I am fucked. Well, not quite. Taken out to dinner and slipped the tongue on the goodnight kiss, maybe, but on Wednesday I have an interview to further the possibility of turning this 90-day term into something a little more indeterminate, and then I am fucked. I don't interview well. Note to self: do not use the word "erect" at all this time. Ooh, that was a bad one. I couldn't stop. The one nice thing about this interview compared to all the other (fruitless) ones of the last year and a half or so is that my boss-type people actually know that I have one, so I don't have to mumble something about a doctor's appointment.
Let's see, I think I gave enough details about the job itself in Dan's LJ, so...general impressions. The building is very old. The bathroom stalls are made of wood, something I've only ever seen at the Ukrainian National Home in Vita. One of my trainers knows my dad; they used to work together years ago. I don't know if this is going to help me or not. This same trainer reminds me vaguely of the guy from Trailer Park Boys with the cats, although his glasses aren't nearly as thick. What else...thanks to a complicated system of underground tunnels (which, despite having no sense of direction, I can actually navigate! Five years at the U of M taught me something!), I can go drugstore-shopping or librarying on my break without having to set foot outside. I have been living on Booster Juice (and wonder why I can't lose weight), to the point where the staff know that everything must be non-dairy, and slip me extra stamps. Perhaps the most interesting on-the-job observation I've made is that, after leaving two jobs that I could do with my eyes shut, this is one where I'm actually going to have to think. It's refreshing. If I could only stop my mind from wandering inappropriately during training, I'd be set. And I've learned tons more about farming in the last week than I did living in the country for years.
And...I think that's it. Perhaps I shall post on Wednesday's horror afterward.
Let's see, I think I gave enough details about the job itself in Dan's LJ, so...general impressions. The building is very old. The bathroom stalls are made of wood, something I've only ever seen at the Ukrainian National Home in Vita. One of my trainers knows my dad; they used to work together years ago. I don't know if this is going to help me or not. This same trainer reminds me vaguely of the guy from Trailer Park Boys with the cats, although his glasses aren't nearly as thick. What else...thanks to a complicated system of underground tunnels (which, despite having no sense of direction, I can actually navigate! Five years at the U of M taught me something!), I can go drugstore-shopping or librarying on my break without having to set foot outside. I have been living on Booster Juice (and wonder why I can't lose weight), to the point where the staff know that everything must be non-dairy, and slip me extra stamps. Perhaps the most interesting on-the-job observation I've made is that, after leaving two jobs that I could do with my eyes shut, this is one where I'm actually going to have to think. It's refreshing. If I could only stop my mind from wandering inappropriately during training, I'd be set. And I've learned tons more about farming in the last week than I did living in the country for years.
And...I think that's it. Perhaps I shall post on Wednesday's horror afterward.