September 17, 2004

speaking of work...

I've recently been promoted to a managerial role. I'll give you a few minutes to digest that and then recover from your fainting spell...

Anyways, I've been doing it for about two months now but I still feel out of sorts. I've always been the managed, not the manager. I feel strange telling people what to do. I realize that delegating tasks responsibly is very different from bossing people around but I still feel a wave of guilt wash over me each time. I can't help myself. Oh curse this Catholic, blue-collar upbringing!

With this job came an office -- the first one of my career. I haven't put my feet up on the desk while smoking a stogie but I've been enjoying my new surroundings in other ways. I've closed the door, turned up the speakers and rocked out. I've also shut the door and called my various doctors without having to broadcast my entire medical history to the whole floor. I've also closed over the door and smoked crack with vagrants and had wanton sex with hookers on my desk. You know, the standard taste-of-freedom stuff...

I haven't officially decorated but between all the tchotkes I've gathered over the years, drawings from the kids I used to babysit, squishy stress-reliever balls and toys with company logos on them, it's safe to say I'm going for the playful theme. The previous owner of this office left some really tacky knick-knacks so instead of tossing them, I'm letting them complement my already juvenile decor. My office is the equivalent of the Silver Spoons house except without the wee train, Pac Man machine and Ricky Schroder. And yes, I know he goes by Rick now but too damn bad. He will always be Ricky-with-the-Cool-Racing-Car-Bed to me. Hey, speaking of has-beens, what's Alfonso Ribeiro up to these days?

But I digress. Sometimes though, I can't help but feel like a fraud. I know I've worked hard to get here but there are times when I doubt myself and my abilities. It's not necessarily a bad thing because this self-inventory keeps me from getting complacent and lazy. I simply cannot afford to be highfalutin because at the first sign of hubris, fate takes a monstrous-sized dump right square on my head. Modesty and self-doubt, in good measure, keep me in line and poop-free, so to speak.

For all the times I feel inadequate, there are just as many occasions where I realize I'm like all professional and shit. For example, today I was asked to write a job description for a position opening up at one of our new, smaller websites. I'm not managing nor hiring for the job but I was asked to do it because I have "years of experience" in web developing. Um, I do? Okay, whatever. It was quite fun to start a sentence with, "The ideal candidate will be responsible for..." I'm used to reading that shit, not writing it.

I've also conducted job interviews recently and found myself using terms like "skill set" and "work flow." Why just the other day, I caught myself asking a candidate the following question: "How would you rate your ability to prioritize your workload and manage expectations under a tight deadline?" The candidate chirped away but I don't think I heard any of his sales pitch because I was too busy admiring the straight-faced, mature-sounding "professional me."

While he yammered, I began recalling all of my job interviews and comparing my demeanor with that of the people who interviewed me. How did I stack up? Was I nodding enough? Should I scribble notes on his resume? If so, what the hell should I write? I always hated when interviewers took a lot of notes when I spoke. What exactly were they jotting down anyway? When I saw someone writing, I automatically assumed it was something like, "Major dumbass!" or "No chance in hell!" or "Buy milk on the way home!"

But I'll no doubt be comfortable in my surroundings and with my new responsibilities soon enough. And as I further slip into "The Man" status, I solemnly promise to never act like some of my predecessors. I hereby declare that I will never tell someone I need them to "take ownership" of a task if I'm not happy with their work. If they're fucking up, I'll say it delicately but not in that bullshit way taught at management seminars. Furthermore, the term "due diligence" will never pass my lips... unless I'm making fun of a person who says things like "due diligence." And mark my words, I will never congratulate coworkers on a job well done by saying, "We're really hitting on all cylinders now!" I'm all about bypassing that bogus rah-rah shit and going straight for the booze. Speaking of which, Happy Hour awaits...