Today marks my eleventh workday since rejoining the full-time workforce. It's 5PM. I am required to sit here until at least 5:30PM, unless I can think of a way to essentially sneak out. Done with all of my work for the day, much less the coming week (it is Monday), I am left sneaking an entry onto the blog.
You may wonder what's up with all of the surreptitiousness. My company has strict policies about phone and electronic device use. Rumor has it that all key strokes are tracked and phone conversations recorded. There are official hours, during which we must be working away, or at least looking like we are. Recruiters don't inform candidates of any of this. You get the low down on the first day of employment during the lengthy review of company policies and procedures.
I suppose the intent behind the rules is to get as much productivity as possible out of us cogs in the wheel. However, the result, at least for me, is perhaps the opposite. I feel dehumanized, like a cast member in the movie Clockwatchers. I am literally sitting here watching my digital clock. I pack up everyday at 5:25 so that I may exit prompty at 5:30. Because what is asked for is so strict and based on time rather than effort or value added, I don't want to give any more than I have to.
The job is easy. I can complete all tasks assigned to me in two hours worth of work a day. I have developed schemes to stretch my work out over longer periods of time. Sometimes, I'm given very mindless, time intensive tasks that take longer to complete. My mind wanders frequently, to stories about ETFs, potential job opportunities elsewhere, what to snack on to pass the time (I am constantly eating, despite the strict ban against eating at one's desk), what public transportation route I can take to shave 5 minutes from the hellish 65 minutes it takes me to travel less than 6 miles.
I took the position in order to force mself to get up and going for the day. If that was my sole purpose, then the decision was a good one, for I am often running out the door at 7:30AM, hoping the bus drivers will push the pedal to the metal so I make it in by the official 8:30AM start time. Maybe I've just been spoiled because I allowed myself to lounge and chill out for the past year and a half - undertaking plenty of projects, but none with such strict timelines. Now that I've rejoined the full-time workforce having experienced the luxury of self-motivation, or lack thereof, I am left wondering how others do this day in and day out without going mad. There has to be more to a vocation than clocking in and out and watching the digital clock in the corner of the computer. Mine is telling me it's 5:19. Yippee skippee! Just six minutes to go before I can officially begin making my way out the door where my real life awaits.
And I decide to spend the morning at the DMV. Yes, you read that correctly. It was voluntary.
I begin working for the man on Monday. The mere thought makes me frown. Not a particularly good sign, but I'm not sure if it's because of the specific job I've decided to take or because of my loss of freedom. Nonetheless, the prospects have been weighing on me heavily. I was unable to sleep well last night, waking up at 5 something.
Part of my concern over this job is that the commute will be about 60 - 75 minutes door to door, taking public transportation. Parking is a pain in the butt and pricey. A solution I came up with was to buy a scooter. They are cute and economical. I could totally see myself scooting around town, cutting my commute time to about 20 minutes.
Given some interactions from earlier this week, I have growing concerns about whether I've made the right job decision, so I had decided to hold off on the scooter purchase. I wasn't sure if there would be a need. I wasn't sure if I was ready to give up my freedom. Having just watched School of Rock, I have been feeling inspired to both rage against the man and make teaching my primary vocation.
This morning, I awoke realizing (duh!) that the decision to have a scooter could be separated from my decision to work where I've (currently) decided to work. I was also partially inspired by a cute little scooter that was advertised on craigslist. I was so good yesterday, spending the day researching and writing about portfolio diversification and risk factors, and I didn't indulge myself in my daily craigslist fix until the wee hours. I must have gone to sleep with cute scooters on the brain, because that's what I was thinking about when I awoke.
So, from 5:30 - 6:30 this morning, I booted up the computer and read through the PDF file on operating a motorcycle. Thankfully, Andre advised me to get the DMV permit crap over with as soon as possible. Work gets in the way of life, so I knew that my day at DMV would either be today or never.
Sometimes, I can be incredibly vain, yet at other times, I couldn't give a rat's ass about my appearance. Odd. Reading that I would have to take a new picture, I decided to attempt to look half way decent, since these photos seem to stick with you for decades. My current license still has my original picture, which is over a decade old. It also has my weight from back in the day of daily running and a high metabolism. So, while replacing the outdated picture featuring me wearing oversized spectacles, I simultaneously destroyed the last remaining evidence that I was once quite thin, ten years and ten pounds ago.
After minimal spiffing up, I drove to the DMV at a few minutes past their opening at 8AM. It's a bad sign when there isn't any parking in the huge parking lot. Even worse when the line for licenses is out the door.
Determined to not let my blown out hair and early morning motivation go to waste, I waited...and waited. I had brought some reading material with me. I read my HBS case on Hanson Ski Products, which was a great use of time, since I am teaching it this weekend. I also reviewed the driver's handbook, as I would have to take half of that test in order to get my motorcycle permit.
The tests were much harder than I thought they would be. As I read through the questions, trying to apply common sense and thinking back to my half dazed review of the information this morning, I kept thinking, "Don't fail. You would never live it down if you failed."
Thankfully, I passed, though I won't disclose my score. Hey, passing is passing.
So after 2 hours, I emerged able to leagally attempt to ride a motorcycle or scooter during day light hours, with an updated license photo featuring much cuter glasses and smoothed out hair. All in all, not a bad way to start off my last day of freedom.