Rookie of the Year

I've got a good thing going here at work.

For the majority of the day, I creep on Facebook, shoot my mom an email or two, and bang out a few blogs. Sometimes I even catch last night's episode of House on Hulu or plan my imaginary wedding to my imaginary groom. Point being: I've got some time on my hands here. At least, I usually do. Just when my eyes are crossing and my neck is cramping from overexposure to the Mac Book, here comes a professor.

I love love love the professors in my department. They are the most stereotypical academic all-stars you can imagine: ill-fitting clothes they've been wearing since 1994, lightly tussled hair from frustrating time spent doing research, and totally incapable of having light-hearted conversation. Dr. H asks me how I'm doing, and I say I'm a little tired. Cue lecture on the dangers of professional burn-out. Real talk: I'm just tired from watching reruns of Frasier into the wee hours of the morning. Dr. S breezes through with a look on his face like he's got rotten eggs in his pocket and I have the poor judgment to make that terrible joke, "Turn that frown upside down, Dr. S!" As I watch him snap out of his trance and refocus on me I hear my mind screaming, "Abort! Abort!" But it's too late, we're now engaged in awkward small-talk as he tries to explain to me that he's just working on a lot of things right now and didn't hear me talking to him and, "What were you saying, dear?" Oh, me? Nothing, it wasn't a big deal. Really. I was just joking around... I, um, er... Have good one, Dr. S.

So I get really excited when the professors bring me work.

"Linds, are you busy?"

Um, yes, as a matter of fact I was in the middle of checking out my Facebook friend's neighbor's sister's wedding album, but how can I help you? Retype your research article because you forgot to save it to a digital format? No biggie. I'll have it to you by lunch. You need me to label a thousand catalog envelopes? Sure, The Biggest Loser can wait.

I mean, really, it's like they expect me to assist them at their every beck and call... What's that? "Assist" is actually IN my job description? Fine, if you insist.

Truly, though, I have the best job imaginable and my professors and faculty are nerdy in the most adorable way possible, like Violet on Saved by the Bell (come on, guys... you remember Tori Spelling's brief time as Screech's love interest).

I especially like that the non-Counselor Ed. professors that come in and out of my office, though. They just call me 'Rookie.' I'm the newest GA, the low man on the totem pole, and I appreciate their honesty when they say, "Look, Rookie, I'm not going to remember your name." That's fine, Non-Descript Professor, I will wear this Rookie badge with pride. I've always been a huge fan of nicknames.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to work... which means I'm either going to tool around on the Internet or start a professor's project in the form of grunt work. Either way, I'll be smiling about my good fortune.