We have an afternoon staff meeting.
This is a weekly affair, and my third one since returning.
Another level of Hell to endure.
For starters, everyone treats it like a social gathering instead of getting down to business. There’s no agenda, no order, no efficiency. It hasn’t started on time once yet, and damn sure doesn’t end when it’s supposed to. There are no post-meeting minutes dropping into my e-mail within a few hours after it ends.
I struggle time and again not to interrupt and shut people down when they veer off the hint of whatever vague topic the department head is addressing.
Then someone brings in homemade cookies, and we get bogged down in a discussion of Pinterest bathroom tile and plumbing fixture trends.
All while I struggle not to scream in frustration.
When I stand, having long ago hit myfuck itlevel, the department head notices.
“What’s wrong, Jordan?”
I fake a smile. “Nothing, Dr. Sently. I thought we were finished. I was going to return to work.”
“Oh, no.” She laughs. “We’ve barely gotten started.”
“Ah.”Motherfucker.
She waves me back down into my chair. “I appreciate how serious you are, but we love to socialize. Keep in touch with each other. I want to make sure everyone’s getting what they need. We do things a little differently now than you might remember. It’s been a while.”
Was she always like this? I don’t remember feeling this level of frustration last time I worked for her. I don’t ever remember hating these meetings so much. Then again, I was rarely in them, because of my schedule and my work.
“Right.” I force myself to lower my ass into my seat while making a mental note to start scheduling student appointments during these weekly meeting times.
I’m obviously not in the East Wing anymore, Toto.
When the meeting finally breaks up nearly an hour later, and I shoot to my feet in my eagerness to escape as everyone else stands, the director speaks. “Jordan, hang back for a sec, please?”
I can’t help it. My head drops and I stare at my feet. I’m barely suppressing the snark that wants to fly free.
If I’d ever run a meeting like this, Chris would’ve skewered me and run me up the White House flagpole. Leo would have paddled my ass for it, too, and Kev would’ve ripped me a new one.
“Yes, ma’am?” I ask once we’re alone.
She smiles. “I appreciate your dedication to your work, but it’s all right for you to dial it back a little. You don’t have to be so formal. So…intense.” She waves her hand, indicating my clothes. Today, a light blue Oxford, sleeves rolled up, green tie, khakis, and loafers. “I’ve had four professors ask me if we hired a new teacher and didn’t tell them. Took me a moment to realize they meant you.”
She chuckles. “I think they’re worried about their jobs, because they’re not tenured. It’s okay to wear shorts and jeans, you know. I thought I told you that? It seems like I remember you used to dress more…casually.”
Her memory’s a little faulty. I always dressed better than weekend loafing for work, but I never wore a tie back then, unless I was meeting with someone as part of my professional internship. Plus, I would sometimes wear T-shirts with jeans. But I never wore shorts, or sweats, unless I was only going to class. Not even for meeting with students I was advising.
“I really don’t have a lot in the way of casual wear that would be appropriate for work, ma’am. I have suits, and a tux. I have a few pairs of shorts, but for working out or hiking, mostly. I only have a couple of pairs of casual shorts. And jeans are hotter to walk around in than slacks.”
She laughs. “Well, what did you wear on the weekends?”
“Usually a suit. Or this. There was rarely a weekend I didn’t go in to work at least once or twice, or have an event to attend, or coordinate.”
Her smile fades to confusion. “Really?”
I don’t understand what she doesn’t understand. “Yes, ma’am. It was DC. I helped plan many events, and usually had to be in attendance.”
She studies me. “Jordan, I have absolutely no complaints about you or your work. Your students seem to love you, but I have to ask. Are youreallyhappy here? This seems a little…like you’re settling, when you’re way overqualified for this position.”
I suck in a deep breath and lie my ass off. “I’m just readjusting, ma’am. I spent six years working in a high-pressure, high-protocol environment.”Living in one, too.“This job is perfect for me right now, because I can finish my degree. Like you said, I need to…dial it back. Decompress. I’m not even unpacked all the way yet.” Technically not a lie, but it leaves the impression I have more stuff than I really do.
