a new job

Last week Janice calls. She's an ex-Horace Mann mom, ob/gyn, runner, skier, and makes everyone around her look like a slug (though not intentionally). 

"Hi, I know this is a crazy idea, and feel free to say no, but my receptionist is going to be out for a couple of days next week and I was wondering if you'd like to fill in for her?"  I immediately say yes.

I tell M — the M who sits on a couple of boards, was President of a major company, and is degreed from two ivies. "I'd love to do that," she says.  "It's something I've always wanted to do.  That, and be a mail carrier." 

Another very accomplished friend tells me that she'd be happy driving one of those NYC street-cleaning vehicles. "I'd get to drive recklessly, beep my horn at everybody, and still be providing a good service for the city."

Another friend, this one with a droll personality and dry wit, once told me she'd like to be an indexer. "You know, the person who cites that any mention of Lincoln can be found on pages 18, 35, 226, and 334-338."

So today is my first day as a receptionist. I have to admit, I'm a little nervous. But Janice makes it easy, as do her nurse and her patients. Soon, I am answering and scheduling with  ease. 

I work from 8 to 2, then grab a quick bite, and go to Bellmarc where I'm on office duty for a few hours. No one comes in looking for a new home.

Tomorrow I go back for my second and last day as a receptionist. It's nice to do a job and then get paid for it. It's been a while since I've had that kind of job. I miss it.