Coffee, the international symbol for negotiaton

On the way to work at 7am, I try to clean my windshield; I’m not as obsessive about clean car glass as my mom (Grandma Debbie), but I do like to play with the wipers and cleaner.  (My last car didn’t have wiper fluid that worked so I pretend to clean my new windshield a lot). Trying to hit the windshield with the automatic wiper fluid and a few strokes from the three wiper blades that the urban assault vehicle operates, it becomes clear to me that I cannot see out my window all of a sudden—at all.  There were a few seconds of “wtf?” and then I realized, stupidly, that there was a logical explanation. I look down at the temperature gauge on my dash and it says that the external temperature is 27 degrees. “Hmmm,” I say to myself, “that is quite a bit below freezing;” therefore, I deduce that I have ice coating my entire windshield at this moment. Argh!

Turning the defroster on high the iced windshield is quickly remedied and I can quickly speed back up and head for the main highway.

I jump into a parking space at about 8am, not really knowing when I am supposed to be there—no one managed to contact me to tell me to show up—I just took it upon myself to show up. I signed the offer letter after all, so now I am offering to let them start handing me paychecks. I’m a giver like that.

Arriving on the fourth floor, courtesy of my personal escort—my husband—I end up in the right location, although all “locations” look the same. Everything is gray: gray walls, gray cubicles, gray office equipment. I’m lost already! Bill has to go downstairs to work and he leaves me upstairs with Human Resources. You’d think it would be weird working at the same place as your spouse, but I think it’s great—plus, we don’t work in cubicles right next to each other. I work upstairs and Bill works in what is lovingly called “The Dungeon;” besides, the best coffee machine is down there and I’m totally jealous of it so I am frequently running up and down the stairs with a hot cup of coffee. (That can only end badly, eh)?

The only thing real productive that happened on day one was that I had a 5-minute meeting with a very nice man who explained a project that I was going to be tackling. There’s no other way to describe it. In those five minutes I understood approximately 30 words out of a thousand. Terrified that I would need a translator for the duration of what could only be short employment, I contemplated trying to find an exit door so that I could just hang out on the roof for the rest of the day.

Did I mention this place has free coffee, tea, and soda for employees and students? It’s awesome; I’m not going to lie. There is a hot drink machine on the lower level that will give you anything from hot water to hot chocolate and “fair trade” coffee drinks. (Don’t get me started on Wisconsin’s obsession with “fair trade” coffee. I don’t think anyone has alerted them that it isn’t exactly “fair” most of the time, but who am I to rock the boat? It’s free coffee and it tastes great! They could call it “fair trade gray water” and I’d be on top of it. Good stuff).




Painting-Untitled-by Alfons Mucha (1860-1939)