Starting A New Job

I will never start a new job with a hangover again. My hands are trembling, my mouth is dry and my stomach lurches like the ocean. There is a lot of information to process and people to meet and I had hoped to make a good impression. The impression I am probably making is of a shy, pale-faced, baggy-eyed weirdie. My new manager is full of energy: chatty and bouncy like a three-year old and I want her to calm down and talk in a quieter voice. My face is frozen into a painful smile. Later on, she apologises for having to leave me on my own because she has an emergency to deal with. Relieved, I stand around wondering what to do with the afternoon. The Library Officer is leaving at 3pm and I think I am supposed to work until 4. He convinces me that I should also leave and I don't have the energy to refuse, especially when he offers me a lift home.

"Are you married?" he asks as I'm getting my bag out of my new locker.

"No."

I wonder if I'm supposed to say more.

"No, I'm not," I add.

There is a long silence. I've always hated being asked personal questions, preferring to very slowly volunteer information over a period of years. Admittedly, this can take a bit too long for most people.

We walk to his car. I feel guilty leaving early on my first day and try working out how my manager could find out. The Library Officer would have to tell her. He apologises for his messy car as all car drivers seem to do. It's hot and stuffy. I wipe away my sweat moustache and stare out of the window.

"Where are you from?" he asks. "I can't work out your accent."

No one ever can. It's a weird hybrid that I hate and feel terribly self-conscious about. I don't sound like any of my family or friends.

"I grew up here," I tell him. "But moved away to university, and then lived near London before moving to Australia."

He asks about Australia, whereabouts I lived and why I returned home. I tell him that I missed my parents and my father's poor health made me want to live closer to them. I mention that I'm living with them at the moment but don't explain why. It's too personal to be talking about with someone I've only just met and I already feel embarrassed by admitting to living with my parents. He asks where I want to be dropped off, I tell him and then he drives past the place. I finally say, "You can drop me anywhere here," because if I leave it any longer I might end up at his house miles away. He stops the car and apologises, while probably wondering why I didn't mention that I wanted to get out earlier. Red-faced, I thank him and hurry away.

As first days go, it was not the worst I've ever had. My hangover was brutal but at least I didn't find out that the person I was replacing had been fired and her best friend was now my boss, which did once happen to me. Being able to compare your current situation to much worse experiences in your past is one of the great things about getting older. Yay!