March 22, 2010

Somewhere in the fields of Pennsylvania

So, here I am, stuck in what this Noo Yawker considers to be america's heartland after my first day of training for my new job.

The first part of the day was spent driving thru the twin demons of hellacious traffic and a bibilical rainstorm. As if my knees weren't rattling enough.

Then I get to the plant, and spend the next 5 hours absorbing as much info into my empty vessel of a mind as i can, whilst attempting to convince my new allies that I am not just another asshole salesperson and that I promise not to make their lives more difficult. I am a very process oriented person, so i can follow rules real well when I want to.
Many trusted in my soft spoken self derision, but the hardened vets just sneered.

At least the hotel has a small gym, and I was able to do four miles at a decent pace on the treadmill. And then, my body reminded me that I hadn't eaten anything all day and proceded to crash out on me in the most heinous emotional, physical and spritual way. I actually started to freak out and fall apart.
I'll never learn to treat my body with the respect it deserves, either I am intoxicating it or starving it. I made it to a local chain restaurant for a salad and a grilled chicken sandwich (only sinning by ordering it with bacon).

So I feel better.

I am pretty confident that I can grasp all of the different offerings we (hey, I said we!) have. I still have to figure out the selling part... which is new to me. But, it's all about selling yourself, isn't it? And I have a very self effacing, laid back, truthful and honest manner about me. Of course that disappears when imma drinkin'. So, i'll have to watch that!

It isn't the hardest job, the hardest job is finding one!

Pray for me!

ps- If you haven't seen it, Paul Westerberg wrote an obit for Alex Chilton that appeared in the NY Times yesterday. Here's the link.


Jon said...

Prayers. Seriously. You're a good guy Nazz.

jonderneathica said...

Thanks for that link. I like to imagine LX Chilton inviting a lady friend to check out his tent. The man who once said that he "wouldn't piss in a journalist's mouth if it was on fire" deserves to be honored in print by a fellow songwriter. Good luck with the new job, Nazz!

Mission Maids said...

Are we in a time machine? This looks so ancient.