Working at a start up has been a sobering experience. VS at the adolescent stage of a great company, not quite a start up in its infancy, but not a well-oiled machine either. There are lots of menial things to be done, which of course fall onto the laps of those lowest in the food chain. Thankfully, there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I hold on to the hope that after all the photocopying, faxing, data-entry, there will be more exciting stuff to come. (Which is why I'm anxious to finish up the current work properly, because if I can't even handle simple data entry work, who's gonna trust me with more complicated things eh.)
Otherwise I'm just gonna bug people till I get to do more interesting stuff. :)
The culture in the office has two main modes: relaxed and ultra-relaxed, the latter kicks in on Friday afternoons after the main bosses take off for the weekend. Initially, (ok, even now), I was unsure of how to communicate with my colleagues. I guess there is really no other way to describe them other than sweet angmoh bengs. Amid all the bodily noises they emit during office hours, everyone busts their butts for the company, and they reward themselves with a pint or two after the week's targets have been fulfilled and Bootcakes scrawls a big red tick on the whiteboard beside the wii machine. P and I discussed baking cookies for the office people to celebrate Labour Day, and we're even thinking of caving in and use red, white and blue icing. -.-''
One of our bosses, let's call him M - he resembles a character straight out of the Sopranos. "I don't ever have a filter over my mouth," he tells me on our first meeting, and in that sense, he reminds me a bit of my own Dad. Fast-talking, educated inthe school of hard knocks, intensely loyal and extremely dismissive of crap. (I overheard him say in an even tone to someone over the phone "I only listen to the facts, so call me back when you get them straight.")
On my first day at work, my supervisor (let's call him "B") had some instructions for me, and I grabbed the first notepad lying on the desk. Turns out that the entire notepad had headers that were lovingly printed in elegant, cursive pennmanship, the words "Dear ****face". Truamatised. B didn't seem to notice, or at least he pretended not to, I'm not entirely sure what that says about VS culture.
In any case, to a great year ahead, farts, warts and all. :)
