Exactly as Expected

On Fridays, we take out the trash.

In my idyllic little piece of suburbia, the blue recycling bin goes next to the black rolling trashcan. Recycling closest to the driveway, please, so that each house’s refuse looks identical as one drives down the curving hill and past the many cul-de-sacs toward the main road.

“Must take garbage,” I murmured, trying to rouse myself from the last moments of a fitful sleep. Chienne, hearing my voice, struggled out from under the covers so she could have me pet her favorite spot – right above her tail. Sprout had been in several times during the night, always purring proudly, so I was unsurprised, though certainly not pleased, to see the dead mouse lying on the carpet in the living room.

I sighed rather than screamed as I once would have done. I knew when he started going outside that he’d revert to old habits and begin bringing trophies back with him. I didn’t realize it would happen so soon, but my expectations were that I’d someday begin my morning routine picking up rodent carcass. So I grabbed a giant trash bag, opened it, placed a broom above the poor creature and slid the dustpan underneath. I released the remains over the trash bag, took it outside and placed it in the black trashcan I wheeled out to the curb.

“It’s not,” I told a colleague a couple of days ago about my job, “that I didn’t know what to expect. The application and interview process were neither smooth nor organized. I arrived to begin work on Monday and had to remind people on the Friday before that I was showing up a in a couple days. I knew I’d have to meet everyone and adapt to the culture and learn a great deal of new information. But I also expected I’d be really good at this. That my understanding of academic environments and my passion for the field would matter.”

“Hey,” I greeted a young woman in my group earlier today. “Where’ve you been?”

“[Ivy League],” she replied and I nodded, thinking I know someone there. “It was fun,” she told me.

“Good,” I smiled at her and said I was pleased things went well. “I worked really hard,” I replied when she asked about my week, “and accomplished very little.”

“I feel the same way!” she said immediately. “And I was talking to another guy and he said that's exactly what he's been thinking too.” I paused in the middle of the task I was performing – a question that had piqued my curiosity enough that I was rather happy to be analyzing data to answer it – and considered the problem. Was I trying to fit into a group that’s inherently inefficient?

I’m out of the office next week, flitting off to the west coast and taking only my work laptop. So there won’t be blog posts from Sunday-Thursday. This works out since I imagine I’ll be working from dawn until bedtime. Sometime within the intense meeting schedules and jovial dinners and desperate need for sleep, I plan to spend some time thinking. I understand the job and what’s expected. I can identify top priorities and the many tasks that prevent progress on said priorities. Given that I’m a bit different than everyone anyway, courtesy of the texts that line my shelves and letters I sometimes (though not often) throw after my name, I think I might try out a different schedule.

I won’t automatically accept meetings anymore. I’ll evaluate the people and issues involved and make judgments on the value of my time.

I will read more – I want to spend solid time with papers every day, even if only an hour. What drew me to this job – apart from location and salary – was the ability to learn and network. I can focus on gathering information – and have access to top level scientists – who do what I think is the coolest stuff out there. And I’m too busy looking for doohickeys to take advantage of it lately.

Email is faster since I’m learning good contacts. I can route people much more efficiently and would like to only check my account 4 times each day. I’m thinking morning, before lunch, mid-afternoon and just before I leave. The constant arrival of new messages distracts me from more important work so I think exiting Outlook might be wise.

“Because it’ll be hard,” or “We don’t normally do that,” are not adequate excuses. There are a couple of projects I’ve been cautioned against but I think I’m right. I might fail, but I think I’ll be happier in the process.

I need goals and checklists and affirmation. I have all of those things – and my colleagues are supportive and funny and wonderful – and I sense they’d be equally happy to help me if I tried something new with the hours I spend there. If I take a “What am I going to learn today?” rather than a “I have how many stupid meetings?!” approach, I think I can make this work a lot better.

Feel free to offer ideas on how that might be achieved.