I’ve completed my first week at my new gig and I have a much better notion now of what’s going on there than I did a week ago. I’ve met the big boss and his wife (they were on vacation). I believe I’ll report to his wife which suits me fine. I’ve been extremely busy including working roughly eight hours over the long weekend.
At home we’re starting to settle into the new routine. I rise at five, eat my breakfast, make my daily rounds of the news media and blogosphere, write posts, feed any dogs who haven’t already been fed, walk dogs, post some more, start getting ready at eight, depart at 8:30, and hope to arrive by 9:00. Welcome back to the rat race.
I am happy to be a stay-at-home dad, but without a doubt the thing I miss most about work is actually going into the office. When we were living out west, before we had Sweetpea, I talked to some people about being a local volunteer and was deflated to discover that it was actually a do-from-home sort of thing. That’s how I ended up substitute teaching. It didn’t exactly give me an office environment, but did give me a place to go and lots of people to be around.
(The funny thing is that I am actually introverted by nature. I think it’s because of that where I feel a desire to kind of force myself into people places.)
Dave:
First, it sounds like you’re up early enough to check on the neighbor’s rumored chickens without being observed. And should your suspicions be confirmed, just remember: omelets tell no tales.
Trumwill:
I missed restaurant life at first. Not the work per se, but yeah, being part of this boozing, pot-smoking, sexually-charged atmosphere. It was pretty much about waitresses and hostesses from my perspective.
Now I avoid all unnecessary contact with humans. I deal with fans on Twitter or Facebook, which is nice because I have an easy, playful relationship with them. But I’m actually on a plane on my way to New York for Book Expo America, which will involve author teas, cocktail parties, signings and an actual grown-up dinner party at my editor’s home.
I dread it all. I want to be on my deck looking at SF and banging out some pages while I smoke fat Joya de Nicaraguas. I was never social – I dread small talk, I’m one of those guys who gets way too serious way too fast. For me the rest of humanity was mostly there to supply me with women to chase. I never saw the point in having male friends. Borderline sociopathy.
So I’m following Schuler’s Return with a degree of emotional investment. We’re much of an age, Dave and me, and I can all too easily see myself having to put on my big boy clothes and going to a specific place at a specific time and then having to adjust my actions to the people around me. It has both the fascination and the revulsion of a horror story.