So, I'm in Awkwardtown.  Population, Me.

I am spending my week working with a customer.  They are all as nice as they can be, but they have a perception of me that does not match my reality.

They think I'm an expert on a product that I barely know, and have never trained.

I'm all about "fake it til you make it", but this is just... not good.  Not at all good.

I'm managing to not look like a total idiot, so far, but I'm tired, and it's only 10:40 AM.  The clinic doesn't close for the day til 5:30.  So, seven more hours, basically, of pretending I'm someone and something I am clearly not.

Add to it, I have just learned that the doctor who owns the clinic has Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer and has about a month to live.


This is my AYFKM?!? face.  I also need a haircut.


The fact that I'm in with Hispanic nurses and their flawless transitions from Spanish, to English to Spanglish and back, makes me feel like I'm playing a bit part in a low budget Telenovela.    I'm in a four episode arc playing, Allison, the trainer from Nashville with a secret to hide.  Not a very interesting secret, and nothing that will bring people closer together - but she will support the new software.  Badly.  And maybe say something marginally kind to someone in the breakroom as a reminder that everyone has a story.

And I'm hungry, but I have no idea whether it's OK if I go somewhere to get food, or what.  I am camped out in the conference room, with the occasional visit from Mike, the contract IT guy.  He's the one who gave me the 411 on Dr. Cancer - don't know which one he is, but I'm on the look out for one who looks like he's still coming into work on his deathbed.

Who does that?

I mean, I'm dedicated, but if they told me I was dying... I'm pretty sure I'd take some PTO and ask someone to water my philodendron for me.

So, that's what's up out here on the Left Coast, albeit inland.