Well tomorrow is my first day of my new job at The Sanctuary.
I have a lot of thoughts about wrapping up at Redeemer on Friday, and the events of this weekend (which were great), and maybe later on this week I’ll get to them, but tonight all I can think about is tomorrow morning.
Now the majority of me is super pumped about starting. I’ve been waiting for a loooong time to jump into youth ministry full time, and there’s nothing like doing it at the place you know God’s called you – but as for tomorrow? I’m not so much excited. Why? you ask? Because the First Day is so dang awkward.
For example, let’s think back starting the first day of school each year – I was usually all decked out in my “first day of school” outfit, which, until I was about 11, usually meant either a pleated skirt, or some sort of tapered, corduroy, teal pants. The outfit, along with being extremely stylish, was also extremely geared for cool, crisp fall weather, which was never usually the case on Sept 3rd or 4th. So not only did I look “amazing”, I also was way too hot. Combine all of that with the realization that over the summer everyone else except for me seemed to get the memo that having bangs and tapered corduroys was SO last year, and it makes for one awkward first day.
Let’s fast forward to my first day of my job at Redeemer. Now this one was exceptionally awkward. Mostly because only 3 months earlier, I’d graduated as a student. And Redeemer has this thing, where on your first day as a new employee, they parade you around to every.single.department. in the school and introduce you to everyone. Awesome.
Ok, I get that – I see what they’re going for there – a sense of community and friendliness. The problem here was that I pretty much knew everyone they introduced me to, whether through my interactions as a student, or as Senate President. But I had to pretend like I didn’t know who they were, just in case they didn’t remember/recognize me. It made for a lot of awkward, small talk conversations.
I have higher hopes for tomorrow. Granted, I still won’t know what I’m doing, or who people are. I won’t know how their photocopier works, or what the office culture is. I won’t know what the normal lunch break routine is, or even if I should pack a lunch, or if the “cool kids” go out. I don’t know any of my youth, or their parents, or even what I should work on first.
At least I can be pretty confident that my outfit will somewhat resemble 2008, and I won’t have to make awkward small talk with people who’ve forgotten who I am.