Being New

Training

Once you’re Hired, it’s onward to your first day. There’s nothing any employee hates more than having to train The New Guy. If the company is big enough, you’re given to Human Resources, a cesspool of seething bile and hatred so terrifying that it merits its own installment later in this series. Human Resources Flying Monkeys view training day as an opportunity to hone their Gestapo tactics and attempt to instill obeisance and fear. Every point taught carries a dire warning. “If you use the coffee machine, make sure you clean up after yourself.  If we find a coffee ring on the counter, we deduct next month’s janitorial bill from your paycheck.”  It’s their only real shot at power, as beyond this point, they are relegated to nothing more than providing you info on vacation time and insurance issues.  Shine on, you crazy diamonds.

Conversely, training from a lackluster co-worker generally has no structure, but can provide some very useful information. Not necessarily for your actual job, but for surviving in the work place. You’ll most likely learn who’s a rat, who’s a suck-up and how long you can stretch a lunch break without getting busted.  Now this is valuable intel.

You’ll be introduced to the entire staff, office by office (or cube by cube, as the case may be).  Don’t worry about remembering names – no one expects you to. It’s far more beneficial to assess the potential snacks and treats that are kept in apothecary jars on various desks.  This will help you plan which departments you’ll be scheduling meetings with in the near future. 

Just as in Junior High, do NOT strike up camaraderie (or even a lunch date) with “The Friendliest Gal in the Office.” That’s not friendliness – it’s dementia. She is a loon, and no one likes her (for a variety of very good reasons). This is why she circles and pounces on The New Guy like an under-quota used car salesman. No one else will have anything to do with her. It’s you, or it’s another day trying to make noontime conversation with the Panamanian sandwich cart vendor. Politely pry her fingers off of your arm and tell her you’ve already made plans for both lunch and post-work cocktails. For the next six months.  Be firm, even if she promises to give you The Dirt. The closest thing she has to dirt is on the end of her nose from toadying up to the Flying Monkeys. 

Sane, normal people are evil and mean. Your well-adjusted new co-workers are going to hang back for days, maybe even a few weeks, and check you out. They’re going to eavesdrop on your conversations and notice what you bring in your brown bag, what kind of car you drive and, of course, your shoes. They will talk about you behind your back, sharing snippets of information and drawing conclusions. At the end of this evaluation session, you will either be shunned for the remainder of your employment, or receive a very casual invitation. “A few of us are going for a beer after work tonight – wanna come?” Yes. Yes, you want to come. Immediately cancel any other plans: front row tickets, court appearances, elective surgery – all of these pale in comparison to the importance of The First Beer. Once you’ve been accepted into the inner sanctum of co-workers, your work becomes much easier. Reindeer Friends in other departments will save your sorry, drowning ass in a wide variety of future work emergencies.

Don’t be stupid. Buy the first round.