Picture this: your first day at a new job. You're nervous, but excited because you really wanted this job, and you think that you're really well suited for the position. You can't wait to start training! It takes forty minutes to get to your job site, so you leave forty minutes in advance, looking prim and polished and ready to go.
However, then, the second you turn onto the highway, you realize that there's no way in hell that you'll make it on time. The traffic is lined up as far as you can see - which is far when you live on the prairies - and moving at under 10 km/h. You panic and stress out, but eventually realize that you just need to call your workplace and explain since there's nothing you can do.
You make it to work twenty minutes later than you were supposed to. Then, something even worse happens. In your rush, you slip in the wet grass. Underneath the wet grass is a thick layer of mud, which is now coating your pants, your arms, your shoes, your watch, and even your car keys. You turn around and go back into your car to briefly panic and cry. Fortunately, there is toilet paper in the backseat that you guess someone bought and forgot to bring into the house. Thank goodness for small miracles. You attempt to clean up, but, really, your clothes and your arms are unsalvageable without soap and water. After some tears and minor hyperventilation, you get back out and enter the building.
Only, you don't see anyone, but one woman at the front desk, who is clearly confused to see you. Plus, you're covered in mud, which is probably also confusing. You explain you're there for job training. At her look of disgust, you briefly say that you lamely mutter something about calling and leaving a message about being late because of a traffic jam. She points you upstairs.
You enter into a dark conference room, which is maybe a blessing because at least your muddy clothes are less visible. There's no room around the table, which means that you have to sit behind everyone and anyone entering or leaving the room has to squeeze by you and your muddy self. Then, you have to awkwardly introduce yourself, "because you were late". Oh, God. Things can only go downhill, right?
Yes, it sounds like something out of a comedy, doesn't it? Hard to believe that it was my life on Tuesday. Anyone, this is what I did:
1) After minor panic attacks, spending lunch in my car crying, and seriously fighting the urge to just say "screw it", drive home, and die in a hole, you plough through it. You take a deep breath, put on a brave face, and go in there with the best attitude you can muster after such a disaster.
2) You have the giddy realization that nothing could possibly be worse. Things can only go up from here, on the plus side (I guess that's the good thing about hitting rock bottom).
And, yes, if you're curious, after that initial hiccup, I'm loving my job so far.
-Laura
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