I Have No Idea What I'm Doing 2 - Now With More Cluelessness.

In case you've been wondering where I've been for the past week or so (I'll just assume that you noticed I was gone in the first place), I guess the best answer is that I had gone into a state of shock. Remember when I posted how the higher-ups in the in the government ministry I now work for not only read my résumé, but assigned me a bunch of responsibilities based on them and I was starting to feel a little in over my head? Sure you do! But, in case you don't remember all the details, you can read about it here.

Now that same résumé has turned around and bitten me in the ass again as it started a chain of events that, this past Friday, led to me not only being pulled from all of those duties but, also, unceremoniously removed from my desk and the very building in which I worked.

And, no, I was not fired.

I suppose some more explanation is in order. It all started the Friday before last, when the manager of my department was passing me in the hallway...

Manager: Vinny, you used to be a reporter, right?

Me: Yeah. How did you-

Manager: The Executive (*lightning flashes, thunder rumbles, building shakes slightly*) said it was on your résumé. She said she's putting you on a team where you can use those skills for a special project.

Me: O...kay...

Manager: I'll tell you more as soon as they tell me.

Me: Um... Sure.

If I seem a little less than enthusiastic during this conversation it's because... well... I wasn't. The last thing I wanted was to be put onto yet another team. I was just getting the hang of all the things they had me doing already. Turns out I had absolutely no idea what The Executive (*lightning flashes, thunder rumbles, building shakes slightly*) had in store for me. That is until the Manager asked to see me in his office the following Monday.

Okay, seriously! Is there ever a time when your immediate supervisor asks to see you in his/her office any you don't imagine it ending with you being escorted out of the building by security, carrying a cardboard box with all your junk (and the stapler you slipped into your back pocket)?

Anyway, I digress, as I am wont to do. Turns out, the little talk with my manager went more or less like that. Only I wasn't being fired...

Manager: How long were you a reporter?

Me: *Thinking: Oh, it's about that! Breathes a sigh of relief* Six months.

Manager: Mm-hmmm... *jots something down in the notepad on his desk*

Long pause...

Here's the thing, Vinny. Did you know The Executive (*lightning flashes, thunder rumbles, building shakes slightly*) is researcher, first and foremost? She literally reads every line of every document that goes across her desk. Which  is why she noticed on your résumé that you worked as a writer and thinks those skills will be perfect for a team that's being set up.

Me: O...kay... I remember you telling me that.

Manager: Well, the thing she now mentioned to me is that she wants this team to focus only on this project. So you're being pulled from everything else you were working on.
Me: Well... okay...(I think I really pulled off not seeming excited by the news that my heavy workload was getting lifted.) But who's going to handle all my-
Manager: Let us worry about that. Anyway, that's why you're also being pulled from the department.
Me: Huh..?
Manager: And you're being transferred to our Central building.
Me: Huh..?
Manager: For about three months.

Me: HUH???

You know those war or spy movies where they assemble a special group to take out a really high priority target? Well this is something like that (I know I'm making it seem cooler than it really is. Please leave me to my delusions thankyouverymuch). Essentially, we're a select group of people with a very particular set of skills; skills we have acquired over our very long careers. Skills that are making things a nightmare... for me.

Since I just had to go and make it known that I am a writer, The Executive (*lightning flashes, thunder rumbles, building shakes slightly*) is now putting me into this special unit dedicated to finalizing a white paper. I had to Google it. Apparently it's a big deal and while the rest of the team will provide the source material, I'm supposed to take all that and convert it into readable text that everyone - from politician, to lawyer to average Joe-on-the-street - can understand. In other words, it's intended to be read by anyone in the country who so chooses. No biggie there. I was a reporter, after all.

Oh! Did I mention it also could be used to implement major pieces of policy that could affect the state of public service for the entire country?

No pressure.

Anyway, on Wednesday I met with the man who will be my Unit Commander for the duration of this special assignment. He guaranteed me the mission shouldn't take more than four months (hopefully).

Friday was my final day there. I was given a "new" laptop, directions to my new office and I met with Unit Commander again, along with the other two members of the team. These were the people I would be working with exclusively for at least four months so it's probably a good idea for me to try not to piss them off too quickly.

I make no promises.

Yes, I did take my stapler with me.