Check-In For The New Job

Well, I now have a real job.  Over the past couple of days, I've been fingerprinted, photographed, and issued not one, not two, but three identification badges (okay, one of them was a tourist badge at the Pentagon, but it's got my picture on it, so a badge is a badge).  I've filled out paper forms, filled out online forms, been given stacks of important things to read, taken an online computer security course, and have more new PIN's and login ID's than you can shake a laser pointer at.  I've checked in at the State Department, at the Pentagon, at the State Department's training center, and at a hotel.  I've been told how to do about a zillion things, of which I can remember maybe three.  In other words, I'm locked and loaded, ready to go.

Actually, I've been pretty impressed with how well my contacts have done everything that needed to be done.  They really have the routine organized well and know how to walk newbies like me through it.  When you consider that the Embassy and related activities have almost 100% turnover every 12 months and that there are several thousand billets to be filled, it's a helluva demanding job.  About as soon as a job is filled with a warm body, it's time to start advertising for a replacement, and once they're selected, they all have to be run through the same set of hoops.  

We finished up my in-processing this afternoon and I headed up to Baltimore to visit my aunt and cousin.  That meant leaving Tyson's Corner around 2:15 pm, driving around the Beltway, up I-95, and halfway around the Baltimore Beltway.  This trip reminded me of why I never want to live in this area again.  Traffic.  Backed up, creeping along, stop-and-go ... and it wasn't even the rush hour!  I found that all my old Washington driving instincts quickly returned.  I knew how to aggressively protect my place in line while watching for openings in the adjacent lanes that might let me gain a carlength or two.  No bastard's gonna cut me off!  

This evening, my aunt made crab cakes for dinner.  Friends, these are world-class crab cakes.  You won't find their equal in any five-star restaurant.  They are light, packed with crabmeat, delicately seasoned, and ohmigawd delicious.  Aunt B says she just follows the recipe.  Well, maybe so, and Rembrandt just slopped paint on canvas, too.  These crab cakes should be designated a Certified National Treasure by an act of Congress.  

So now it's late and I'm brain dead.  Getting up at five o'clock may be fine for some people, but this lazy-ass artist isn't used to that.  Not now, anyway, although that will probably change pretty quickly.