Eight minutes.  I had eight minutes to get from my car to my desk.  The uncovered lot was the sticky wet of rain and oil.  It frothed a little as I walked.  I still wore ties back then.  You have to make a good impression while you are in training.

I’m a tactile guy.  “Phone, wallet, keys,” is my pat-down mantra whenever I leave home or work.  Since starting the new job I had forgotten to add a line.

“Agh! Where’s my badge?” I thought as I pivoted back to my car.

Center console. Empty. Man-purse. Empty. Side cubby. Empty.  I began doing the math thinking, “Six minutes left, and if I search another three, fail to find my bag… I better just get the guard to credential me in now.”  I frothed across the lot.

Door one opened to a tiled entry way.  I took a right at the slippery when wet sign and into the carpeted lobby.  Door two hit me with sixty-three degree air that made me very aware of how damp my shirt was.  I young woman sat on the fake leather couch waiting to interview for the position of any temps who got fired for being late.  I smiled at her thinking, “Don’t take my job.”  The guard station behind the blue counter was vacant.  I approached it hoping to find a button or a bell to summon my savior.

The badge read “D. McFarland” over a bar code.  We were supposed to turn them in every day during training.  I had forgotten for the first two days to turn in my badge.  Friday I had remembered to turn in my badge.  With pride I had placed it in the security guard’s cubby.  Today I had forgotten that I had remembered.

I clipped the badge to my belt and swiped it over the grey scanner of the office door.  I pulled the badge on its retractable lanyard twice as I walked down the hallway to the break room.  I knew that playing with my badge like a four year old breaking a set of blinds or a car window looked unprofessional, but I felt like Batman using my “utility belt.”  It was okay if Batman was late.  I turned right, swiped the badge again and entered the windowless break room.

“Put the lunch in the fridge, pour coffee, get out, four minutes.” I picked fridge number two and jammed my lunch bag between two casserole dishes.  I thought to myself, “Potluck on a Monday, weird.”  My amusement melted as I approached the empty coffee pots.  I didn’t care if I made it on time any more.  I cared about coffee.  I almost fell asleep in training on Friday and today we were supposed to meet all the managers and the new boss.  Coffee was necessary, but I didn’t want to cross an office taboo.  See some offices have specific people who are allowed or supposed to make coffee and some offices are a free for all.  I didn’t know which kind of office environment I was in.  I turned to a man who looked like he had been here a while.  I spoke in an un-rushed manner, “I’m Daniel, the new guy.  Do you know the coffee protocol here.  Can anybody make more?”

“Well Daniel the new guy, I’m Bob and I’m newer than you.  I say go for it.  I give you permission,” said over relaxed Bob from his seat at the break table.  I thought Bob seemed out of place.  He should be just as late as I was.

“I’ve been here three days, and haven’t seen you around.  What department are you in?”  I said to Bob as I poured grounds into a fresh filter.  The aroma gave me hope for my 10am break.  He responded as he stood up, “I’m fresh from the mid-west. I’m excited to finally start here.”  As I walked to the door I said to the sitting Bob, “Well we work hard, but the team is good.  You’ll love Austin.  Have a good day.”

I sat in my training desk and dumped out my study materials.  The trainer said, “Now that we are all here.  Please welcome our management team.  We’ll start with my new boss, Bob.”