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this is not a dress rehearsal

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this is not a dress rehearsal

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Wow. First meeting using the Official Meeting Spot that I picked out (Elmwood Community Center) to meet with my crew today. I met with some of them over the weekend, but I used my back yard for that.

Class Clown continues true to form. Today, the exact room I wanted to use for the meeting wasn't open yet, so i used a next-door one. Fine. It was set up like a classroom or lecture hall. I was sitting in the audience seats, and using a binder as a writing surface. He said "hey, do you want me to move the table so you have something to work on?" I said, "No, I'm fine, and I don't have permission to rearrange the furniture here anyway." He said, "I'll put it right back." I said, "No, leave it where it is." HE PICKS UP THE TABLE AND STARTS TO MOVE IT. I say "Put it back! I don't want to use the table." He says "Geez! Touchy! I just wanted to help!" I said "You offered, I said NO, and you didn't listen. That's not help."

It probably doesn't help in his case that I don't look my age -- he's a good 20 years older than my actual age and I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't believe younger women are capable of being right when they don't agree with him.

I'm glad I got his official field observation out of the way first, so I don't need to have more than minimal contact with him. It's not that he's incompetent. Just irritating.

One other minor irritant today: the deadline for turning in the time sheets has shifted. My supervisor told me 10 AM Monday. Probably, up until today, it WAS 10 AM Monday. I get to the office at 9:30 today, feeling all successful, and I get handed a slip that says the deadline is now 6 AM Monday. Blech. So most of my crew members are going to have to wait another week to get paid for their Friday and Saturday hours. Not their fault. Not really mine either. The ones I've told have been OK with it, although one was confused about the difference between "what week your hours count against for not-incurring-overtime-purposes" and "what week they show up in your bank account." Mostly what it means is I'll have to make sure to stop by the office on Sundays to put the timesheets through the mail slot.

My supervisor thinks I'm a rock star. It's amazing how good I can look just by following the simple expedient of RTFM. He's all "hey, did you fill out Form Y along with this X form you handed in?" And I explained, "Book says you don't need to do Form Y the first time you assign things on Form X -- it's only if you turn it over to a second person, or take a few individual things and give them to a second person." He goes, "huh, lemme check that," and comes back with "You're right! You got it. Man, all I need to do on your stuff is sign."

This afternoon I go out on field observation with my most nervous crew member. He's gained confidence even since Friday, though, so I'm sure he'll do fine.

I think I may need to take back at least one pair of the shoes I bought -- they felt comfy enough in the store, but they were KILLING me today. I seriously doubt Grandboss is going to go out in the field with me this afternoon, so I intend to wear my pink-and-black checkered Vans. They may be a little matchy-matchy with the pink T-shirt I'm wearing under my blazer, but GUESS WHAT, I DON'T CARE. I developed my fashion sense in the '80s when matchy-matchy was AWESOME (and even then we weren't as matchy-matchy as non-hippie 1960s fashion was) and Stacy and Clinton can kiss my '80s ass.

I may even have time to get a load of laundry in before I go out in the field again. Wouldn't that be amazing?

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