Heebiejeebies

Of course what I tend to forget, until it is too late, is that there was a reason I stayed on the flange desk for the best part of a decade.  Namely, that underneath this carefully-constructed façade of laid-back competence, I am a hopeless, semi-delusional neurotic, and not very good- at all- at dealing with change of any kind.  Hell, the time in the old place when they moved me across from one side of the office to the other it damn-near gave me a nervous breakdown, so the act of wilfully uprooting myself from a ten-year career torpor and leaping over the abyss from my comfort zone into an actual Proper Job With Grown-Up Responsibilities- one out of the Guardian, for fuck’s sake- was always going to interfere with my precious equilibrium more than somewhat.

So, you can take it that my two-week absence from these pages has been the result of what can only be described as an attack of the screaming heebie-jeebies, the main symptom of which has been to render me incapable of emptying my head of the fretful minutae of my new nine-to-five existence (and also of the Big Questions, such as What The Hell Have I Gone And Done) for long enough to sit down here in the back room in the late-night quiet and, you know, do whatever it is we amuse ourselves with around here.  You know, concocting dangerous theories about the wearing of trilby hats, that sort of thing.

We’re starting to come out of the other side now though.  Today, for the first time, I managed to find my voicemails without having to ask anyone for the password, and the slightly scary woman from the other desk remembered how many sugars I take in my tea (maybe tomorrow she will remember my name as well).  Last but not least I got through three meetings, with various people from inside and outside Not-For –Profit –Organisation- Y- two of which I had called and set the agenda for all by my self, if you please- and managed not only to get to the end of them without tripping over the overhead projector lead, but having also achieved small but significant steps towards the attainment of targets.  Targets which I have been assured are of the utmost importance to the Grand Plan For World Domination of Not For Profit Organisation Y, but which this time last week made no sense to me whatsoever.

So.  Small steps.  Larger, but ultimately surmountable cases of the heebiejeebies.  Thank you for your patience- and your comments- during these trying times (I notice we have some new people in the comment box, welcome one and all, apart from that eejit who slagged off my hat, but then he won’t be back now Abby has swatted him away with  a choice quote from a 1950s transport theorist).   Normal service will be resumed etc etc.  Goodnight. 

Comments

[joella]

The heebiejeebies are entirely natural -- healthy even -- and will pass. Honest. If you get stuck, just sing "what the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here" to yourself a few times and you'll feel better. And before you know it the Not For Profit Organisation Y jargon will be coming out of your mouth like you wrote it yourself. Shortly after that, you *will* write it yourself. Don't worry until you get to that point. By my reckoning, that takes at least six months...

[Simon]

News has reached leafy Surrey that you even missed 5-a-side last week due to work commitments. Most troubling.

[Ben]

Glad to hear you're starting to find your feet - even if you're feeling as though they've been in your mouth most of your first couple of weeks!

I know what you're going through - why does every computer program / system have to have a different password?! I've locked myself out a couple of times and had to ring IT pleadingly. Even the bloody phone's got an ID code you need to remember...

[looby]

I've got two passwords at work before you can open anything. I have to write them down and keep the bit of paper in my jacket pocket, which is Against The Rules.

I have every confidence in your being able to acquire a convincing aura in the world of housing just as you did in the world of flanges.

'Tis nerve-wracking though, I know. I started at the bank 6 weeks ago and I still feel at least two blushingly incompetent moments a day.