When I decided to accept this job, I was struck by the parallels with my last job: a business started by a woman who later brought her husband on board, success that outpaced the growth of systems, lots of things that work based on institutional memory instead of consistent organization, and much of it held together by unbelievably dedicated and trustworthy workers. The owners of the business are fiercely intelligent with strong ethics, and genuinely interested in the well-being of the staff and customers. As with my last job, I have a gigantic task in front of me, and exactly the right, weird combination of skills to do it.
What is jarringly different about this job is the environment. Instead of a dusty warehouse, I work in bright, clean studios in historic buildings, and my office (read: desk) is in a gallery space. Instead of sarcasm and wit, there is openness and joy. I have been met with hugs and handshakes and heard “I’m so glad you’re here,” more times than I can count. This pervasive happiness and gravity-defying lack of cynicism among highly intelligent people has occasionally left me wondering what on earth I am doing there. Of course, I called in this situation, but it’s still quite an adjustment. When I started my last job I had some concern early on that I wasn’t vegan enough for the job (a worry that rapidly proved itself to be ridiculous). The more I think about it, the less different it seems. Before I worked at Pangea, I was the only vegan I knew, and working with other vegans for two years was a great experience. Until I started this new job, I was the happiest person I knew, so the logic should follow that this will be a positive experience.
I have made a practice of choosing jobs at which there is something for me to learn, although it is not always clear when I choose them what that will be.
