The date had been set well in advance. This made room for anticipation, conjecture and trepidation. So, as the day began, it was only natural that I was experiencing the product these three had forged - a nervous excitement.
At the gates. The security guard wants photo identity proof. I rummage my bag for my passport. I'm sure, though, that it was my mind that was in a mess. He takes the small blue book, its cover announcing the country with an image of the National emblem. He flicks it open, then shoots a glance my way. He beckons me to go in. He is, I suppose, more accommodative than a face recognition software.
I walk to the lobby, taking my eyes off my quarry for only one look at my watch: 8 :15. My feet want to slow down, still inert from the tense journey. My mind, also inert, can't.
As I enter the reception area, the first pulse soother. I spot a face still fresh in my memory from the two earlier rounds of interview. The only salve for anxiety, apart from action that may well be reckless, is rambling speech. A conversation is kindled, both the speaker and the listener, I presume, appreciating the shattering of the silence. As dialogue continues, I discover that most of my fellow 'new hires' are, like me, new to technical writing. The nagging question about the thinks I should've packed as part of my luggage - the mental one - upon receiving the passport into Cisco that had been my offer letter is muted. More talk. Yes, we had to wait beyond the scheduled on-boarding time. I realise that many people, again like me, had taken the plunge into technical writing in the hope that there's water in the pool, abandoning the dicey pad that is the diving board - the careers that could've been, but maybe shouldn't ever be. I am assured that we had all taken aim at targets with words in our quiver, without necessarily having mastered any WMD's of writing as yet.
We are taken into the swipe-and-enter-only zone. Our journey is to begin with Da Vinci and Michaelangelo, though the first activity neither needs their craftsmanship and genius, nor are the products going to be as vivid and colourful. But, you do feel a little less apprehensive when you've already had one tooth bored and filled. I persuade myself to fill the flurry of forms. It is as drab as it sounds.
Meanwhile, a mentor has been assigned to me. He has tried to reach me twice since the morning, only to have his calls rejected as I tried to engross myself with the formalities. He has left me an SMS asking me to call back at a convenient time. I take note of it when we break for lunch, and decide to defer it till after lunch with a friend, a now seasoned Cisco employee.
I call. It's a guy, and this wouldn't be significant minus the skewed gender ratio in technical writing, a ratio that favours women. He offers to meet me by the side of Michaelangelo. He does. After a prompt greeting, he gets into the pleasantries to find me mumbling as I fumble for words. We head to get the laptop that has been assigned to me. I am relieved and thrilled all at once to find that I wouldn't be chained to a desk or a desktop; that I can work from anywhere almost instantly trips me to fall in love with my job and my company. Weird, indeed, are the ways of love!
Armed with the laptop and its docking station, I ride with my mentor to another nearby Cisco establishment from where I'll be working. I deposit my docking station with a newly-met colleague, yet to get my cabinet keys. My mentor takes me around and introduces me to a few of my colleagues-to-be who are in. Nothing lost, nothing gained, only warm greetings are exchanged.
It's time to go home. My back straining under the weight of my certificates and grade sheets, the laptop slinging from my shoulder, I pause to see if my mind has been unburdened. The answer is yes and no. Yes, I am glad my fraught tryst with unemployment is over, among other things. No, the burdened has not ceased, and, in fact, seems to have increased. Fresh expectations, what else?
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