Orientation

Despite the fact that have worked at the school for the past six years, am asked to attend all day orientation in Human Resources. Before orientation begins, try to reason with Human Resources--in the person of a short balding man who is wearing a white short sleeved button-down shirt and who alarmingly refers to me as Fred even though am wearing an Hello My Name is sticker with Fritz written very clearly in block letters. Human Resources is utterly unmoved by assurances that I know where the library is and that I've already filled out all of the required forms. He says, unsmilingly, It is required. He continues, Don't worry, the orientation will be fun. Feel that perhaps he is trying to convince himself because as he says the word fun he sighs in dejected way. We are all herded into conference room where HR does his presentation -- presentation consists of holding up a form and then explaining that we are to fill it out. This takes an oddly long time. HR makes what think may be jokes about each of the forms. When he holds up the dental insurance form he says, you can choose either the HMO or the PPO. Of course if you have a root canal you won't want to have to go to the Russian doctors who don't give you enough novocaine. I learned that the hard way. But the choice is up to you. Or when he holds up the life insurance form he says, Before you we're done here, give this back to me with the name of the person you want as your beneficiary. Notice I said person. You can't leave it to your cat. I tried. Just kidding. These are merely the highlights -- HR something of a motor mouth though very, very hard to pay attention to. When begin to try to figure out exactly why he is so hard to listen to -- is it maybe that there is very little inflection in his voice? That his eyes seem to not quite ever land on anybody? Begin to think that maybe he has stopped speaking english and instead is muttering in Klingon. But feel this is a bad attitude and that will not make the time pass any more quickly. Sit up straight in chair. Look around room. All eyes look as glazed as mine feel. Feel self slipping back into stupor. Wonder, idly, what would happen if stood up on table and screamed. Instead of getting up -- would take far too much energy, energy which do not have and have likely lost forever -- draw concentric circles on back of dental form. Feel that anything figurative would end unsuccessfully. By end of orientation, discover that have filled up page with not only circles, but also numbers which did not intend to write and which have no memory of writing and which probably signal imminent mental collapse. Picture Dave visiting me at Bellevue. Hope that he will remember to bring me chocolates. Enter long negative fantasy in which dress self in hospital gown and force self to eat pills out of horrible little paper cup. Next part of orientation does not improve mental state--HR dims lights and puts dvd into player. We watch a propaganda piece about the school. Do not know exactly who this video is intended for, but find it very very compelling. It is edited in jump cuts: here is a pretty girl riding her bike on Fifth avenue, here is a class of attractive and engaged students gesturing, here is a jazz improv class, here is a fashion show--feel, but am not certain that all the images repeat themselves for maximum effect--which works. Have very strange moment when feel burning desire to work at the school that is being advertized on the screen. From dimmest depths of brain, sanity reminds me that I DO work for this school and am in fact sitting in it. Not sane part of brain--high from the video--shushes its cousin, says, Look at the pretty pictures. The lights come up and HR says That's It. Can hardly believe it. Other orientees blinking in light. It takes us all a few minutes to regain use of limbs. Leave room feeling that years have been added onto life. When stop to get coffee at deli, catch glimpse of self in mirror. See that have indeed aged--skin gray and dry and hair looks exactly like a toupee. Am also wearing name tag, which snatch off, quickly. This seems to break spell. Walk out into sunny day. When get back to office, call the Contessa. She is not as sympathetic as would have wished. Become short with her. She says, don't have a hissy fit, I'm just a little bit distracted. Why? ask coldly. She says, The New Man and I are having a little affair. Say, What?! The Contessa replies, I can't talk right now. I'll tell you later, I promise, and hangs up.