Finally, I got to start my new job! Although, after I arrived, I wondered why Linda had agreed to it. In fact, it didn’t look like she was expecting my arrival at all. When I drove up to the school, I pulled around to the front to park. I saw several parents entering with their children by a side door, but I didn’t have the security code to let myself in the door, and I wasn’t sure if there was a doorbell at that end of the building. Besides, even if there was, the office was quite a distance from that door, and I’d hate to make someone walk all that way to let me in.
I walked up to the front door precisely at 8:30, excited and nervous, and rang the doorbell. After a few minutes, one young woman came out and opened the double glass doors for me.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
I told her who I was and explained that it was my first day working there. “Oh!” she replied in a startled way as she looked me up and down. “I’ll tell Linda.”
I followed the young woman to the office. She hadn’t invited me to, but she hadn’t told me to wait at the door, either.
The place was chaotic inside. Carpet-layers were everywhere, either tearing up the old or already starting to install the new, identical, dark Kelly green floor covering. It was hard to know where to step. The off-gassing from so much new, synthetic carpet was overwhelming. I could hardly breathe. Before the morning was over, my throat was raw from sucking in the noxious fumes. If it was doing that to me, what was it doing to the small children in the building all day? Couldn’t they have waited to install on a Saturday when no one was here?
I stopped in the front office while the young woman proceeded to the back office. In a moment, Linda poked her head around the dividing wall.
“Oh! Hi, Annie! Just put your stuff down anywhere.” Then she disappeared behind the wall again and continued her conversation with someone else back there.
I looked around for someplace to put my purse and briefcase. There was a coat stand behind the glass-paned office door with nothing hung on it, and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving my purse where it could be seen and easily snatched. I wondered which of the three desks in the office would be mine. (I needn’t have wondered; it turned out none of them were to be mine.) I expected Marjorie, the office manager I’d met briefly during my tour of the school, occupied the one in the front office, even though there was no evidence of it, so I didn’t feel I should stash my things under it. The only two other pieces of furniture in the room were a hutch and an armoire. The former displayed the school’s operating license, lunch and snack menu for the week, and other pamphlets and newsletters of interest to the parents of the students; the latter stored instruction manuals, students’ medications, a first aid kit, forms, office supplies, etc., which Linda had shown me on my tour. Neither of those was appropriate for my need, so I continued to stand dumbly by myself in the front office holding my purse and briefcase.
After a while, the young woman came out of the back office, passed me without looking at me, and disappeared down the hall. Linda ended her conversation of a personal nature with the other person in the back office, whose identity I came to realize was Marjorie. (I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the office is so small, one can’t help but overhear). Before long, Linda, too, left the office without speaking to me, although she at least smiled as she passed.
For a moment or two, I continued to take up space in the front office without meaning or purpose until I decided to poke my head in the back office. Since Marjorie couldn’t help but be aware of my presence in the front office, I had thought she would come out and say “hello.”
Marjorie is a tall, middle-aged woman with glasses and a very short haircut reminiscent of the way my mom used to wear her hair back in 70s, curly on top with a short, straight fringe of hair at the nape of the neck. She reminds me a lot of a secretary I worked with at the University of Kansas about twenty years ago named Kay. She so closely resembles her that I really have to struggle not to call Marjorie by the wrong name. Because I had such a good relationship with Kay, and because Marjorie also reminded me of another secretary friend I had dearly loved during my employment at a music store back in southern Missouri, I felt an immediate connection with Marjorie and a level of comfort with her.
When it became apparent to me that Marjorie wasn’t going to come out and say “hello,” I boldly ventured back unbidden and poked my head around the wall.
“Good morning, Marjorie.”
“Oh! Hi, Annie.” (Why does everyone around here seem so startled by my presence?)
“How are you this morning?” I asked.
“Fine, thanks, and you?”
“Fine. Is there anything I can help you with?” I queried further.
“No, thanks. I don’t know what Linda wants you to do. You’ll just have to wait until she gets back,” and with that, she returned her attention to the papers on the desk at which she was sitting.
In fact, she appeared to be heavily entrenched at that desk. There were two desks facing each other in the back office, one of which appeared to be Linda’s, and now the other appeared to be Marjorie’s. Okay, so I guess maybe the one up front is to be mine. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with being the go-to person in the front office, but people would just have to be patient with me until I became familiar enough with the school to field most of the questions. Still, I didn’t want to presume anything, so rather than stand like a department store dummy next to Marjorie’s desk or sit presumptuously at the front office desk, I sat in the visitor’s chair on the other side of the front desk and finally relieved myself of holding my briefcase and purse any longer by placing them on the floor beside me. I was glad to have them out of my hands!
I waited and waited…and waited…until Linda burst back into the office, headed straight for her desk at the back. The phone rang. Marjorie answered it and handed it off to Linda. Linda hung up and hustled out of the office again without a word or glance in my direction. So I waited some more…and waited…and waited. The phone rang again. Marjorie answered it again and took a message. Students, parents, and teachers came and went past the office, and still I waited. I occupied myself by looking at all of the brochures and newsletters for parents on the hutch, returning each to its precise, picture-perfect position when I was finished lest I mess up the carefully arranged display, and still I waited.
Okay, I get it. You don’t want me here, for whatever reason. I’ve been forced upon you by Beverly, the owner, and you don’t want to deal with me. Obviously, this was an unusually chaotic day with the carpet layers here, and I probably shouldn’t have started today, but how was I supposed to know? You had me pick the date and didn’t like my first choice and forced me to pick again. You could have just told me it was a bad day, or better yet, suggested a start date that was best for you. That’s just it, though, isn’t it? There isn’t a good day for you, because you don’t want me here. I get it now. You’re too busy to be bothered with me. You’ve made that clear.
Now what do we do to get past this? Just put me to work doing something, and let me help you. I’m a nice person if you give me a chance and get to know me.
At last, Linda returned once more and went back to her desk. She called up front to me, “Sorry, Annie! It’s just so crazy around here this morning, but when isn’t it, right Marjorie?”
A chuckle emanated from Marjorie.
“Well, that’s okay,” I replied, “just put me to work. What can I do to help you?”
“Well, mostly I thought you could just observe today, but if you really want to help, I need some folders put together for the prospective parents. We could set you up in the enrichment room.”
I followed her with a pile of papers to the room and waited while she spread them out on the small tables that the children used for their crafts and projects. She showed me what order they needed to be put in the folders and how she wanted the folders labeled, then she bustled off again to whatever task was waiting for her attention next. I felt a little better as I began to assemble the folders. At least I was doing something useful, and I was no longer in the cramped office feeling like a fish out of water.
I settled myself on a tiny chair meant for a much younger and smaller bottom than mine and set to work. I enjoyed the sunny solitude of the enrichment room until one of the young teachers came in. She didn’t introduce herself or acknowledge me in any way but went straight to work on the folders. Before long, another of her co-workers came in. I knew they were teachers, because they were wearing the obvious dark green aprons with the Pemberton logo embroidered on the bibbed top. I wondered if I would have one, too, eventually. While we took turns pulling papers to stuff into the folders, they began to chat with each other about personal things as if I weren’t there at all. Well, at least they weren’t startled by me. Apparently now, I was merely invisible, not startling.
I was a little sad when the folders were completed so quickly. I wanted to stay in the cheerful enrichment room, but I felt obligated to go back to the office for more direction. I consoled myself with the thought that it was almost lunch time anyway as I made my way back.
There was as little notice or direction given to me as before. I asked Marjorie if it would be okay if I sat in a chair that was next to a folding table beside the desks in the back office. She nodded that it was okay but cautioned me that the back of the chair was broken. “Just don’t lean back and you’ll be fine.”
When the clock showed that it was 12:30 and nobody had mentioned anything about lunch yet, I waited for an opportune moment and asked what they did about their lunch break. Linda looked at Marjorie, and Marjorie looked back at Linda, and then they both gave a snort of laughter.
“We don’t get a lunch break. Oh, but you can take one if you want to today,” Linda answered.
“Well, I didn’t bring a lunch. I wasn’t sure if there was a refrigerator for the teacher’s use, and I didn’t have anything that could sit out without refrigeration. I thought I would grab something close by.”
“That’s a great idea. Go ahead.”
“How long do I have?”
“However long it takes.”
I wished it could take the rest of the day. This was so awkward!
I drove to a nearby Whole Foods grocery store where they had a salad and soup bar with stools at the front of the store for eating your purchases if you wanted. I ladled a cup of crab bisque, paid, and sipped it slowly from my stool, watching the people walking by outside. I mulled over my morning. What do they mean they don’t get a lunch break? If you work an 8-hour day, by law, you get a lunch break. Right?
I reluctantly drove back to school, had to ring the doorbell to get someone to let me inside, and asked Linda for the code to the door when I got in the office so that I didn’t have to keep bothering people when I needed to come in. That also led her to show me the computer (in another Pottery Barn hutch) at the end of the hallway where I was supposed to punch a code to sign in and out for the day.
“Don’t worry about it today. I didn’t have the code for you yet when you arrived this morning, but I put your arrival down on my report, so you’ll be paid for today. But tomorrow when you come in, you want to make sure you punch in your code first thing. I don’t really have much for you to do this afternoon, but Mrs. Saber’s room is just about finished with the new carpet, and she could probably use a hand putting everything back in her room, so why don’t I introduce you to her?”
That sounded great…anything to keep from having to twiddle my thumbs in boredom sitting around the office with nothing to do! Mrs. Saber had been with Pemberton for several years and taught a couple of classes of part-day preschoolers. She was medium height, slim build, had brown hair, and spoke with a kind of breathy voice. Yes, she would be glad of the help, and she put me to work immediately, giving explicit instructions for reconstructing her classroom.
After a while, it was evident that Mrs. Saber reveled in giving direction and instruction, but I didn’t mind. It made her happy to have someone to order about and listen to her, and her constant chatter was a relief to me. I could happily work at my chores without having to make much conversation. An occasional sound of agreement from me seemed to suffice and keep her talking. Besides, before the end of the day, she taught me how to run the laminating machine. That was something useful, and it had been a machine that the “lowly” teachers of my previous school in Virginia were not allowed to touch. Only the aides were trusted with that valuable piece of equipment. Now I had the secret knowledge! Bwah, ha, ha! Not a bad way to end a very long, trying day.