This month I celebrated my one-year anniversary at the Leader.
I know, I know, I get breathless just thinking about it. Being in uncharted employment territory makes me extremely edgy, even a little self-conscious.
It is as if I’m falling through space, arms and legs flailing as I try to grab hold of something.
Neil Armstrong and other explorers must have felt something similar as they ventured into the unknown, only in my case I fear I have also become a serious social embarrassment.
I am like the postgraduate who hangs around student bars playing video games long after his friends have begun careers, like the middle-aged guy who sponges off his parents. As I walk down Main Street, I’m sure I hear people whispering “why’s he still here? Talk about lacking ambition. What a lamo!”
In my delirium, I have begun composing letters in my head from mysterious authority figures.
“Dear Marcus, congratulations on reaching your one-year milestone at the Barrhead Leader, now clear your desk. You are well past your expiry date and serve no useful purpose.”
Another goes like this.
“Dear sir, you remind us of a fax machine – always a light flashing up top to say something is jammed. Prepare yourself for the dump.”
Such paranoia was not helped the other day when I heard myself on tape. Lord forgive my incoherences and squeaky utterances! At every turn in the conversation I went up a verbal cul-de-sac, before retreating in ums and ahs, broken clauses and high-pitched yelps.
No wonder 12 months on some folk still find me incomprehensible, putting it down to my Aussie/South African/New Zealand accent.
Still, such reflections are at odds with this auspicious occasion. After all, I am in celebratory mood.
When I passed the six-month mark I gave six fat reasons why Barrhead was good for me. This time I will give 12 skinny – but significant – causes for joy. Ready? Here goes:
• The bananas and muffins that greet me most mornings when I stumble to work, grumpy and barely conscious.
• The homemade cookies that magically appear on my desk when I write a story about music. If music be the source of food, play on!
• The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting down the office corridor, providing an excellent excuse for a wander.
• Our in-house fashion shows that have kitted me out with almost a full wardrobe – I am now spoilt for choice with shirts. Shame about those pants!
• The office poets who can turn out a well-crafted stanza for every occasion, from unrequited love to an anniversary.
• The visits of Sarah and Hurry, who became instant friends from the day I fed them Barrhead Bakery’s yummy sausage rolls. They are dogs, in case you are wondering.
• Reminiscences with friends about the music of one’s youth, the concerts attended, the fun and absurdness of it all. Anyone else recall “Shaddap You Face?”
• Pasta Tuesday, when we visit Pepper’s, except when court or council intervenes.
• When a photograph turns out as well as, sometimes better than, you hoped. You ask yourself: Did I really take that?
• The freedom of driving in beautiful rural Alberta, along open roads, far from the madness of the city.
• The confidence of joking with someone, of being slightly outrageous and not causing offence.
• Accepting each other’s quirks and eccentricities without being judgmental.
Well, there you have it. Twelve reasons, with many more swirling inside me. Better save them for another anniversary. Who knows what further feats of employment longevity I can achieve?
