Make that the second most trusted name in lab banking...

I proudly announced in my previous post that I had apparently surpassed a particular threshold of trustworthiness at my new job and had been named official lab banker.

It must have been all of the sweet science bling that coincidentally appeared on my bench that raised suspicions, because my title was soon after adjusted to official lab co-banker. Moreover, I have been relegated to the much less glamorous aspect of financial management: bookeeeping. The other co-banker is in charge of actually managing our collective assets.


...now how am I ever going to pay for this gold-plated pipette?

Yajeev: The Most Trusted Name in Lab Banking

I must be doing something right in my new(ish) job, because yesterday I was named unofficial laboratory banker. I will be the guardian of lab recreational funds.  As of today, we are about 50 dollars in the red. If projections hold (and lab members remember to bring their money to contribute to the fund), we will have a 20-dollar surplus by this time tomorrow. If not, I may soon be in line for a bailout.

I pledge to maintain utmost integrity and complete transparency as I faithfully execute the office of banker and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, defend the financial status of this laboratory.

(... please disregard my fancy new lab coat... coincidental timing, I assure you...)

Looking for my marbles

Since moving to Connecticut, we have conformed to the hands-free cell phone driving laws by utilizing bluetooth earpieces... which I have begun to use beyond the confines of my automobile, perhaps against better judgment.

I had a minor victory this morning, but given how overwhelmed I have felt during this past week, a minor victory was a real high point. A small confidence-boosting experience would carry me a long way, or so I thought. I was so pleased with myself that I gave the wife a call to share with her the small, but significant, good news.

Invigorated, I called my wife to communicate the high-point of my nascent postdoctoral career. As we spoke telephonically via bluetooth earpiece, I walked back and forth across the inner quad next to the building in which I work; I had no idea that I was at that very moment supposed to be attending a lab meeting... a meeting at which all but one of my ten-or-so co-workers were waiting for me to join them... a meeting in a room with a view of the inner quad... the very same inner quad on which their newest labmate was at that very moment pacing back and forth gesticulating semi-wildly, speaking animatedly, as it appeared, to himself... or the voices in his head.

One of the lab members mercifully came to retrieve me and tell me about the meeting I was supposed to be attending. When I came to the meeting room and saw that the entire group had watched me apparently cracking up on the lawn, I nearly did for real.

I've decided to take it one hour at a time. A day is just a little too much to ask for.

When your best just isn't enough

As the astute reader will have determined from reading my previous three or so posts, I have begun a new job, and the transition has been a little on the stressful side. As a result, my neediness index has increased fairly significantly over the course of the past several days. I am fortunate, because I have quite an understanding wife who has put forth a heroic effort to provide love and comfort.

As I feel myself becoming more needy of my wife's encouraging words and warm hugs, I worry (irrationally, I tell myself) that I might wear out my welcome with her and that at some point she will tire of giving, giving, giving of herself so that I can feel reassured.

She was on her way out the door this afternoon to take Watson to the dog park when I asked her, "You're not going to get tired of me are you?"

"I'm gonna try my best," she said, joking.

"Try your best!?" I asked incredulously, insecurely. I had expected her to give full commitment that she would do more than "try her best"... that she would with certainty declare that, No, she would not become tired of me.

Before she left, I made her guarantee that she would definitively not tire of my neediness.

I was glad for the assurance.

Day 4, and still blogging (if you call this blogging)

4 days into my new job.

Social anxiety and personal insecurities are at an all-time high. The situation is probably a bit better than the way it feels (it just has to be)... My stomach is constantly churning--when will my new co-workers figure out how much I actually don't know? I just know they'll find me out for the impostor that I am.

Beginning a new job reminds me of pursuing a girl--a total roller coaster of emotions... excitement-- terror-- calm-- diarrhea (I know, diarrhea is not actually an emotion)-- peace-- anxiety-- sleepiness-- restlessness-- "I can do this... what's the worst that could happen?"-- "oh, right, that's the worst that can happen... and I'm not sure I can do this." At least with a new job, I'm not worried about that first kiss and not burning her socks.

Day 2, and still blogging

This is probably the last thing I should be doing right now, but I'm just signing in to give all of the loyal LOYers (Land of Yajeev'ers) a brief update on the new job...

My co-workers are quite friendly, but I am still overwhelmed by the newness of my situation and the mass of material I need to both comprehend and produce in a short period of time... but as has been historically the case for me, the degree to which I am caffeinated reflects the degree to which I feel up to the task. Unfortunately, compared to my previous lab, this lab actually enforces the rules: no drinking coffee at the bench. Bleh.

So, like the nicotine fiend who has to sneak out for an hourly cigarette break, I am the caffeinaholic that requires his regular fix to make it through the day. This might be a problem for long-term success.

I'd blog more but I'm supposed to be working.

And I need some coffee.

At least I'll be caffeinated

I start a new job tomorrow.

Fortunately, the wife bought me a new coffee pot. Compared to our previous brewing machine, this one is sleeker, shinier, and futuristicker. I haven't read the instructions yet, but it may double as an mp3 player, protein gel transfer apparatus, or time machine--there are lots of shiny buttons.

Hopefully, I can forestall the occurrence of work-related mishaps so characteristic of my very existence at least until I've endeared myself to the new boss and batch of co-workers... I've found that endearment prior to mishappening makes the latter much less awkward (though perhaps less bloggable as well).

Here goes nothing.