The New Guy

I'm not sure which is more difficult: being unemployed and in search of a new career in this flimsy economy, or, after finally nailing down a job, attempting to coalesce gracefully with the unfamiliar ecosystem of a new line of work. Don't get me wrong - all the challenges of a new career are much more preferrable to me than unemployment. I would much rather be newly-employed and green than unemployed and, well . . . without green.

Hmm, that was almost funny.

It is easy to spot the new guy. Not only is he infallibly upbeat and disgustingly positivistic about everything, he wrecklessly jumps at the chance to volunteer for anything and everything that is asked of him with nary a thought of himself (or his dignity) or if he actually has the time or energy to do it. He arrives at work long before the rest of the sensible world has even had their first cup of legal stimulant and is the last to clock out (while his veteran colleagues make for the door at 4:00 PM like Iranians flock a long-awaited open border). When it comes to the details of his work, he is meticulously thorough and, regarding his schedule, he is over-committed. His responsibilities are, at this neophyte stage, impossible to complete without him lugging them home evenings and weekends. Therefore, by the end of the first few weeks on the job, he is, for lack of a better description, completely and incomparably (in his experience) pooped!

The newly-employed teacher needs a mai-tai, a hammock, some aesthetically-placed palms and coconuts, and a uekele playing in the distance.

For the first time in a decade, I'm the new guy. Without a shadow of a doubt, I love my new vocation, but I would be lying through my teeth if I said I am enjoying the initiation process. I'm ready to be good at this, to know the ropes blind-folded and backwards, and to orchestrate the minions of minutia that populate my day with the flare and grace of a master conductor before a symphony.

But I'm not there yet. Not yet. For now I feel more like a giraffe on ice skates than a master conductor: awkward and clumsy with no grace to speak of. But when I feel like throwing in the towel, I just remember how good I was after 10 years in my old line of work, and remind myself that life is a lot like wrestling a gorilla. You don't quit when you get tired; you quit when the gorilla gets tired.