The Runup to the Rundown, Part 4

That Monday was chock full of snowy goodness, as well as a hellacious commute in on Interstate four-ninety-five. For those of you not in on the cosmic joke, that road is a trail that passes through the most congested parts of hell. The driving has given me plenty of time to think about what I will write about later and daydream, but it has also driven (haha) me to take steps to move down to Virginia, just so I will have time to myself not in a car.

When I arrived, half the staff had called out, the roads were so bad. I rang the front door, and D.S., who did not know me, said that he could not let me in, and I should wait until someone that did know me let me in. I waited a poor forty-five minutes in the lobby before I.S. came to get me. That was when I first learned about the core hours of ten until four.

The first couple of days were fairly slow, just getting the workspace set up and learning to play with one of the systems. Then, Wednesday, I got a task. Help desk script. Woo. Busted that out, nervous as all hell, but it was a good start, nothing too complex. I.S. said it was good work. I felt buoyed. I was ready for the next task.

The next week, on Thursday, it dropped right into my lap. They stuck me on the new contract at four in the afternoon, and I learned about the horrors of all day meetings on Friday. I want to word this carefully, as I’ve obtained a security clearance that disallows me from talking about the specifics, but I hate all day meetings. I think I can state that without contravening the requirements of the clearance. All day meetings are all day wastes of time (yes J.R. you were right). I want to rise up out of my chair and start screaming every time we have an all day meeting. They’re bad enough that every Thursday, when we have one, I long for the days of N.C.I., partly because I miss the voice writing crew, and partly because I could get work done.

Yes, I could just consider the possibility that I’m getting paid for this time, and so should suck it up, but if my life were all roses and candy, what would be the point of me living it? It’s not the ease with which we identify in literature, it’s the struggle. The grinding edges (thank you M.O.) of society. It’s through the pain, and how we react, that shapes us, makes our lives, our stories, interesting. And so, for now, since I have no real pain to speak of, I suffer with these all day meetings.

It turns out that I am not the only one that thinks I will return to N.C.I. They have yet to delete my information from the network, should I decide to return. Oh, I want to, but I cannot, for I have decided to move down to VA, and cannot subsist on the N.C.I. salary if I do so.