Getting the Hang of Work

I have survived two weeks of work, although one of those weeks – just three days – was not a whole week. From what I see so far, I like my job, I like my coworkers, I like the company. There may be only two of us employees over the age of forty, so I feel like a defender of the old guard, yet the kids at work keep me young. On the one hand, I try to demonstrate competence and experience from my decades of work, On the other hand, I do sit back and let my coworkers show me the company process, templates, and systems.

I’m currently overwhelmed with so much new jargon and so many new projects. Yet I sense in a few months, I’ll have time to breath at work, maybe not for extensive idle hours, but at least with some space to implement my own ideas. For now, I stand up routine Tableau worksheets and visualizations for a desperate, appreciative audience. Oddly the stuff my last company mocked me for implementing, the new company values. I can’t please everyone all of the time.

I’m investigating work culture. The company is quite male, white, and young. Of the twenty or so in the software group, only two are women. Surprisingly, many many employees are gay and married. I went to the first LGBTD (Dinosaur) lunch meeting to sit shocked with thirty (!) coworkers. We spent far too much time drafting a mission statement and not enough time planning the next party.

The company drinks a lot. Friday’s two happy hours started at three o’clock. I got scolded for not bringing a beer on the return shuttle back to San Francisco. “It’s Friday; of course you can bring a roadie with you.” I’d like to tell them that I drink more alcohol and do more drugs before breakfast than they do all week, but it’s just easier for me not to indulge so much with the beer.

Folks tend to wear the same outfit to work for days, even weeks in a row. Company swag is toned in a boring renegade black which at least matches almost everything. I don’t yet get a sense for company style or even if there is one that matters. I may sink into old-man frumpiness. Bring on the third week; I’m ready for the challenge.