Of the many visual perks available on Pinterest for the anal-retentive at heart, there is an overwhelming multitude of photos depicting organizational nirvana. Unsettlingly neat shelves. Coordinated wicker baskets lined up, just so. Color-coded paperclips and notes labelled in a penmanship resembling the Arial font.
But what I really really want to see is a set of photos tagged with #3moslater.
As in "hashtag-three-months-later."
As in "hashtag-show-me-what-it-REALLY-looks-like-NOW-comma-three-months-later-[insert-smug-face]."
Three months later, to me, is a goodly amount of time at which one can assess progress, especially in matters of improvement or marked change. Three months later is usually about when we return to that Central American hideaway where that Canadian couple relocated to for the first 27 minutes of House Hunters International, only to discover they've made do with one less bedroom--SEE, people? When you move abroad, all the people who promised they'd come and visit are back in their normal lives where they don't need a passport, visa, and shots in order to "drop in on friends."--or that they've ripped out that hideous rattan cabinet that once passed as "charming ethnic flair."
I wish #3moslater would catch on, but we know it won't. Everyone wants you to see their awesome life when it's awesome; but you're not allowed back in when it's just plain old regular.
Apropos slightly, it is exactly three months to the day since I began at New Job.
And frankly, I ain't afraid to pull my drawers open and show you how things are just as they were just at the Big Reveal, a.k.a. Day One. Newlywed luster has somewhat lost its sheen, but it is still pretty lovely.
Do you like your new job?
I get asked that a lot. My immediate impulse is me forming the words, "I love it here!" But we all know what happens to the girl that uses the L word too quickly in a new relationship. And the truth is I don't love it here. I do like it, though. A lot, in fact. Even on a consistent basis, I can say I do like it here, a lot. That in and of itself is saying something.
And the thing is, I don't really believe anyone should love their job. People say it all the time, but it shouldn't be such a simple, umbrella statement.
It's okay to love an activity you do as part of your job. Or love how you feel when you think about a work accomplishment. Or love the friendships that you make while at said job.
But loving your job?
My ears perk up now, when I hear someone refer to their job that way. I think, "Uh-oh... anybody wanna get it on the death pool for this relationship?" Coz it sounds like they're in a relationship with their job, and let's face it, you can get into a long, lasting relationship with a job. Heck, you can even prepare for your future with your job. But you sure as heck aren't going to get snuggled up to on a cold dark night by your job, and certainly when you get sick, your job is the last place you'll get some TLC and chicken soup.
But I digress.
#3moslater and things are going swimmingly. And that's literally what I said to a colleague at New Job just yesterday. It might've been my opportunity for a conversationally candid statement, but I was hovering between New Girl Tact and practicing what it's like being in a "casual relationship" with New Job.
I know how I am. I easily could've rebounded in a new Serious (Job) Relationship, but when you are at a workplace long enough to require a "mourning period" after the split, maybe keeping things casual going forward should be the obvious M.O.
#3moslater and let me show you what's in my still-organized closets: still keeping things tidy and minimal. And in this way, I'm referring to the keeping-it-casual thing that most people already do: only doing what they're supposed to be doing and thus, not inadvertently setting themselves up to have to later overextend themselves. A mouthful, right? But apparently a mouthful that was already so ingrained in my mindset that I never had to bother saying it aloud. On more than one occasion here at New Job, I've had that split second to decide not to jump in and offer up a suggestion that would require additional action from me.
It is strangely delightful -albeit foreign- to hold back. I have learned how my mouth feels when my lips are tightly pursed so I don't start saying, "Well, how about if I did this?" I am amused that even though I feel like a selfish jerk at the moment, these people here at New Job don't know any different, and I've averted disappointing anyone with my lack of assistance. My potential involvement was never on the menu, and I am slowly learning to be okay with that. The amusement is just me feeling like, "Oooh, look at me! Getting away with it! Getting away with being less-than-extra-helpful!!" but I'm sure that will fade.
As Old Boss always used to remind me, "it's not like we're saving lives here or anything." Duh, good point, right?
#3moslater and I've discovered the local charm: Best part about going any place new? New people. New people with new stories and quirks and history that I find endlessly entertaining. Dare I say, I've even encountered several people I'd recruit for any number of my hypothetical "teams."
People I'd travel with? Definitely one, maybe two or three.
People I'd start a detective agency with? Already got two in mind to put on my payroll.
People I'd invite to round out a dinner party (i.e. "Dinner-Party-Guest Worthy") Yes, a couple.
Desert Island folks? Eh, not sure yet, but I think in time I might be able to cite one or two names from the employee roster here at New Job.
So, #3moslater, and all is well. Can't ask for more than the simple satisfaction in that.
Keep an eye out for #6moslater. Give it some time, I'm sure it'll be trending.
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