Welcome to the BLM

Lesson for the week: The government is slow. They make an art of red tape, bureaucracy, chains of command, approvals of approvals that were previously approved by someone whose entire job it is to approve of things. As a result, I've just finished my second week of work at the BLM and still have yet to do... anything. Really. I can't do any field work until I can drive a government vehicle, I can't drive a government vehicle until I am "trained" in defensive driving, I can't get training in defensive driving until I'm registered online at the National Training Office, and I can't register online at the National Training Office until someone- that's right!- approves of it. Which, by the way, might take up to four weeks. From yesterday.

I was hired for this position more than two months ago, turned in my paperwork barely a month after that, and here I am twiddling my thumbs for eight hours a day because someone somewhere can't get around to giving my name the go-ahead for a simple activation of an online account. Needless to say, my frustration meter has nearly peaked this week.

That aside, this is where I work. The deer isn't always there. It just happened to be crossing the street when drove by. I usually park in front of the tree. You know... just in case you were wondering.

The offices make a circular-ish shape around a small area in front where there is a receptionist's desk and a broom-closet sized room containing public information. The offices (and everything else, for that matter) are only accesible by key and/or code. Evidently, they really take security at the Newcastle BLM seriously.

My desk is on the eastern side of the building. If you look in the picture, I sit directly between the two windows on the far right side of the office. As an intern, I do not get a window at my desk. Windows are only for the 'real' employees.

My boss is "Dwayne," the critter coordinator at the Newcastle Field Office. His supervisor is the field manager of the office, "Tulip." So, technically, she's my actual boss, but I take direction from Dwayne. Dwayne is.... well, he's something else. Early thirties, about my height, egg-shaped head, buzz cut, balding, thick glasses, and starting to put on a little weight. That kid you used to know back in high school or junior high that was really nerdy, wore highwaters, hung out with the computer geeks, but always tried to act like he fit in by talking about football and frequently using the phrases "That is so awesome!" and "Man that is so cool!"? Imagine that kid as being thirty-something, and you'll basically have Dwayne.

He's a really nice guy, and I know he cares about the work he's doing. He's married, has three kids, and he and his wife are expecting a fourth any day now. Which compounds my "lagard nature of the BLM" dilemma. See, Dwayne has to show me everything he wants me to work on in the field before he goes on paternity leave. Unlike many people, he sees his wife's pregnancy as a tour of active duty, and plans on taking quite a bit of time off when the kid is actually born. If I don't get driver certification before his wife goes into labor, then I may very well be stuck in the office for two weeks doing exactly what I've been doing for the last two weeks- a whole bunch of nothing. Then, when I finally do get started, I'll have four months in the field to do five months-worth of work.

So please, keep your fingers crossed that something positive will happen this coming week. I'm really tiring of the disappointments. And the waiting. That too.