What the crap is wrong with me?
I just got a phone call from the Mothership, saying that they want to put me on a Request for Qualifications as a Project Architect. This is the second time, in the three months I've been here, that this opportunity has been discussed. Just like the last time, my first (completely internal, thankfully) reaction was oh crap oh crap oh crap I'm not ready I'm gonna fuck it up and I think I may hurl. I need to take the next step up in my career, and here it is, dangled right in front of me- again- years sooner than it happens for most people.
I'm so incredibly scared, perhaps because I haven't had anybody in my life to watch as they climbed the professional ladder; I'm the first in the family to finish college. Nobody here seems to realize that I've never acted- completely on my own- as PA before. Half of me wants to allow them to overlook that fact, the other half feels I need issue a disclaimer regarding my lack of experience. I've never been confident in the Fake-It-'Til-You-Make-It approach, especially not in work matters. Although, I must be convincing someone that I know what I'm doing, even if my self-image is on par with a person who walks around with a finger up her nose. I joked about becoming Employee of the Month, after being here for two weeks. Three months after I started here, they gave it to me.
Heh, heh, heh...gulp.
I had to sneak off to a conference room and call ManThing to have him talk me down. He's damn good at it. Crisis averted for the moment, he asked me, "what's the big deal about being a Project Architect, anyway?"
"Well, it would mean I am running the whole project- by myself- and that's a big thing!!" There would be no "buffer" between the client and me- I would be the buffer. That brought up a whole slew of other thoughts...I need better clothes, I hate my skin, why do I still feel like the stupid little sixth grader with ugly glasses when I'm really a grown-up?!?
I am freaking the hell out…again…and it still hasn't actually come to pass yet. I wonder what will happen the day I actually do become a PA. I may die of a heart attack. At 31.
What do you mean, that I "seem high-strung??"
[pops a Tums into her mouth]