Deep Waters Make for an Exciting Swim

"I hope you don't walk away from this discouraged--that's not my intention..."

These words from my boss today made the difference between the state I'm in now and the fitful panic attack I anticipated having as soon as I found five minutes to myself. It was another long day of meetings and conference calls with the only two people at my work who have enough authority to make my life a living hell. Every now and then the regional manager comes in a hurricane to my center, asking all the questions I'm unprepared for and none of ones I had on tap. My bosses expect me to know everything that has happened in the last six weeks of the summer program for each of the 50 or so students that walk through the Prep Center doors every day. As director, part of my responsibility is to be able to spit back at any given moment the specifics of each kid: which subjects they struggle in, what their last three or so essay and test grades were in each class, who their parents are, etc. I split them into categories and scribble notes and codes all throughout their red folders. I create Excel sheet after Excel sheet to keep myself organized, and still, it's that 20% I'm fuzzy on that I get asked about during these tirades. Meanwhile, they throw little projects my way and I have to stay on top of curriculum and billing and ordering food and college tours and fall projections and hiring and making copies and the alarm is broken and this room is too hot and this room is too cold and Stacey and Grace's ride is late and Dennis wants to leave early and...and...and...and...and.....

I get overwhelmed.

It's not the truth--the tasks don't run together nearly as badly as I make it sound--but it feels that way some days. I know at least on some level that my bosses really do like me. They've assured me of my job security on multiple occasions and every so often they throw me a line or two that reminds me that they think I'm more than a hopeless case. Keith is training me for management, sculpting me into a mini version of himself.

What I realized today, or recalled rather, is that this is exactly what I signed up for when I asked for the job. The higher your rank, the more responsibility weighs on your head. At the end of the day, most everything is my fault...which is ok with me because what I'm doing isn't normal for someone with my age and education. My theatre degree didn't prepare me for crunching numbers, selling our services, or managing employees. I didn't rise in the ranks after putting the time in, getting to know the company, learning the tricks of the trade. My life is a blessed accident.

Part of what I bargained for (albeit unknowingly) in getting a job I don't deserve are the tides of criticism--I could have put in my time somewhere and gotten to where I am slowly but surely. Instead, I jumped feet first into murky waters. And, naturally, swimming to the surface under these conditions involves mistakes, aches and pains, and swallowing more of my pride than the water I'm choking on. But I can tell I'm getting stronger. On a day like today, after taking a beating by the undercurrent and getting tossed back to shore...it doesn't make me cry this time around.