First Day Jitters (and no it's not another post about the kids)

Today I'm linking up this Stories Of Me post with Fi from My Mummy Daze.  

This week's prompt is First Day.

When you hear the words First Day you automatically assume it'll be a story about the kids and school.  

Not this time!  The kids get enough attention on this blog.

ALTERNATIVE POST TITLE: Nancy No Friends And Her First Day At Big Girl Work

While I was studying journalism at uni I got a part time job at a theme park on the Gold Coast which turned into a full time job as an attractions supervisor for the next 5 years.

Degree?  What an expensive piece of paper that turned out to be.

Working in a theme park was easy and fun. People watching heaven.

I bossed staff around all day, laughed at the people on the rides and rode roller coasters on my lunch breaks.  

After 5 years the novelty of working weekends wore off, I missed hanging out with the kids and found the easiest way to quit was to get pregnant.  As you do.

It was time to get into mummy mode.  A whole new territory for me.

Play dates...the gym...I was going to take a ride down stay at home mummy easy street.

So it came as a bit of a shock when that baby was 7 months old and the husband announced that he'd gotten me an interview for a job in the finance industry.

Say what now?

Finance?  Is there anything more boring than talking about money?  My expertise was in FUN not finance.

So um, no.

I was perfectly happy doing NOTHING playing house.

That didn't seem to deter him.

One of his friends owned a finance company and was more than happy to give me an interview for a traineeship. 

Shit.

If it had been a stranger I would have totally fluffed that interview. Since it was one of his friends I had to make a good impression.  Heaven forbid his friends find out that his wife is a complete moron when it comes to finance.

Lucky me got to go back to work full time with a 7 month old still on the boob and two kids in primary school.  Ah, the joys of expressing, sitting in traffic, childcare, after hours care and NEVER sleeping.  

Good times, good times.  

After the initial horror at the thought of going back to work wore off I got a tad  excited because it was going to be my first job in an office.  You know what that means.

Pencil skirts and high heels.  

After years of wearing pants and sensible shoes (you can't run around a theme park in stilletos) I could finally be a girly girl.  A girly girl in a company full of men.

On my first day, I was terrified.

Like a kid on their first day of school, I was Nancy No Friends with no idea who the cool kids were or where the toilet was.

I shuffled into the office in my new skirt and heels and was told by the bored receptionist to take a seat next to my fellow trainee.

Cue awkward small talk.  

Luckily, we both had no idea what we were doing (stupidity loves company) or what the traineeship would entail.  No one ever felt inclined to fill us in on that either.  General philosophy of the company?  Need a manual?  Why don't you write one.

It took me a while to get into the mind set that I was once again a trainee.  Bottom of the ladder.  In the first week my manager gave me a list and asked me to go for a coffee run.

WTF I thought.  You're a grown man.  Get your own damn coffee.

I wasn't asked to get coffee again.

Trainee no.1 and I finally got the gist of what our intial traineeship would entail.  We would whizz around Brisbane and the Gold Coast, getting clients to sign documents, inspecting vehicles for the financier and occasionally, training in finance and insurance. 

One morning I was asked to drive to a boat yard to inspect a boat and grab some documents.

I didn't bother asking anyone in the office if there was more to it than what I'd been doing with cars.  I was the only girl there and didn't want to them to think I was stupid.

Boats aren't that different to cars, right?

Fake it til you make it, I say.

So I arrived at the boat yard in my flashy yellow company car, grabbed my oh, so professional clipboard, pulled on my killer heels (yeah, killing me) and made my way into the office.

After some delightful boat yard chit chat with the manager, he took me out to look at the vessel.  It was stored way out the back down an ankle snapping gravel driveway under several tarpaulins.

The boat yard manager couldn't remember where he'd put the paperwork that I needed, so he went to call the owner while I confirmed the boat identifiers.

Colour? Check.

Model? Check.

Registration?  Check.

Engine numbers?  Um....hmmm.

Now where would an engine be on a boat?  I couldn't see a motor.

Sheeeeeet.

I walked around and around this stupid boat, trying to figure out where the engine serial numbers were before the boat yard manager came back and realised I was a total asshat and didn't know what the hell I was talking about.

I figured I'd have to get into the boat.

I managed to pry open one corner of the tarp, hoisted myself up onto the trailer (not an easy feat in a pencil skirt and heels) and proceeded to fall into the boat.

Head first.

And got stuck.

SHIT!

I couldn't move.  My legs were pinned together and waving in the air while I tried to push myself out of the damn boat.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! 

I could hear footsteps on the gravel. 

"Yeah, Bruce I'll let her know the papers are in the cabin..."

CUE UNCONTROLLABLE LAUGHTER.

From men.

Many men.

Hearty belly laughs and wolf whistles.  Fuckers.

The boat yard manager and all his apprentices stood around the boat admiring my frantically kicking feet fine pins while I remained firmly wedged under the tarpaulin.

A little help, please?

It took a few minutes but they managed to yank me out of the damn boat, dignity, if slightly tarnished, still intact (thank goodness for tight skirts).

From then on I abandoned the girly girl pretext at work and like the boys, wore pants.

Until 8 months later when I was made Settlements Manager. 

A thankless, brain numbing position.  Zzzzzzzzzz. 

Boom!  Got pregnant.  

Wonder why that happened.