I survived my second day at The New York Times. I’m not sure anyone cares that I did … I did get a Congrats on Your New Job card from Anne (har har) … And Alex made sure I was alive. But that’s pretty much it. Oh, John – he checked in on me, too. Mom and Dad, too. Phew. Five people!
A few noteworthy things happened today, on this milestone of mine.
First, WordPress had me renew my blog because bigcitybeddie.com has already been mine for a year apparently. What?
Second, I woke up to drink coffee and watch the Today Show. And before I could muster an independent thought, my boss popped up on the screen during a segment on Tory Burch:
Third, I got my NYT ID Card, and I look more like a witch than ever before:
Fourth, I got into an elevator after picking up my first NYT paycheck, and I admitted to the man in the elevator that it was only my second day in the building (I also admitted this to the cafeteria lady and the mailman and the security desk), to which he responded, “Ah. First job, huh?” “I know I look 18, but I’m 26. It’s not my first job.” “… … Oh.”
Also, I think someone was mad that I borrowed a Mac chord off their desk. So much for warm welcomes. I do have a tentative coffee/drink/lunch date with every other new coworker, though, so that’s
daunting exciting. (But I’m also still scheduling coffee/drinks/lunch with my old coworkers because, well, dammit, I miss those fuckers.)
I haven’t heard the end of “Welcome to the Times,” I’m sure, and that’s kind of okay by me. The less settled I am, the less I have to worry about what to do next. For now, it’s Set Up Deborah Time, all the time.