Yesterday morning found me in a bad way. Like I'd-rather-die-than-go-into-work sort of way. I was so nervous, guys. I literally shut myself up in my room with the door closed, didn't even tell my roommate it was my first day of work, and I spent the whole morning and early afternoon psyching myself up for orientation. And when I say psyching myself, I mean just that - I watched back to back episodes of Psych because if I stopped and let myself think about what was coming, I'd die of spontaneous internal combustions or something horrific like that. Being unemployed never looked more beautiful than in those hours waiting for 2pm (time to go!) to arrive.
It was a crazy day, y'all. My khakis came in the mail literally at 1:30pm. Then when I was about to hit the road to get to orientation on time, I remembered that I was supposed to bring in my ID and my SS card. Which was at home in my mom's keeping. Cue the panic. My brain also though this was a good time to remind me that my gas tank was basically on empty. So, 2:02 found me in my car entirely NOT confident that my outfit was okay, speeding towards my paren'ts house which was the opposite direction of my Target to meet my younger brother at the end of the driveway with my SS card, where I drove the rest of the way with the "low fuel" light decorating my dash board like a malignant hello.
Yes, I was late. Me, the person who's completely and hopelessly OCD about never being late...was 7 minutes late for orientation. My epic fail moment. However rather than firing me on the spot with a twelve-gun rejection solute, they graciously didn't seem to even notice my tardiness.
So, orientation found me and three guys filling out paperwork and watching some videos with some hysterically over-dramatized and painfully over-acted scenarios and today found me and two of those same guys buddying up as the resident newbies behind a cash register which forever altered the way I will view check-outs for the rest of my life.
Moral of this post? I made it. Ha. Day three? Bring it on.