My first week of "real work" was this past one.
I started on the 15th, but then there was lots of training and then an airplane to Sunny Orlando Florida to train some more. I don't particularly like Florida but even so there's something cruel about staying in a sunny resort hotel with an endless river swimming pool and sitting in overchilled conference room for ten hours a day, staring at a computer and pretending to audit a pretend company's financial statements.
I was glad to come home and snuggle the boy.
The boy started first grade this week. He likes his teacher, some of his friends are in his class. My after school care thing is sort of ragtag at the moment. Hopefully not too latchkey-esque, but we single parents do what we've gotta do.
Oh yeah, real work.
By way of quick explanation, because I find some people need it, I'm an accountant, but I do not do taxes. I work in audit, which means that I'm one of the people going through companies' financial statements and books and such and saying, yes, they are making the money they say they are making and they have the assets they say they have and if you would like to invest in them, go ahead and rely on these. I'm way down at the bottom of that pyramid, but that's my general role.
My very first client was one that I got thrown on, as did everyone else on the team. It was supposed to be a quick cleanup job so they could file, and when I was handed my tasks, I stared at my computer and felt like weeping.
"Maybe I'm REALLY BAD AT THIS??"
As it turns out, the whole file was screwy and the things I couldn't find WEREN'T there. While that's bad for getting work done it was enormously good for my mental health. I was having an occupational crisis for like thirty full minutes on Tuesday.
I am hopefully halfway done with my CPA exams. I'm still waiting on scores for the second section I sat for. They should have been out a couple weeks ago. But aren't. I'm just going to assume that means I passed until I hear otherwise.
Next week I turn thirty.
I don't have any plans.
I mean, I'm going out tonight, but I don't have any ON MY BIRTHDAY plans.
I was sick all last week, which made me feel mopey, but now it's the weekend and I can breathe through my nose and I feel much more zen about the whole thing. I assume someone will probably remember to wish me happy birthday and hopefully no one will expect me to move mountains or anything.
Birdie, nerdy, purdy, sturdy, wordy, dirty, flirty.
Well okay then.