This is the second episode in the series "Mystery of the Missing Research".
Previous episode: A New Job
In life, I have learned, if you are part of a large
company, or in my case, a large German public sector institution (several
thousand people work at this campus), your entire existence there is determined
by your immediate superior. If something goes wrong, you really only have that
guy that you can talk to about it. You would not want to go over their head and
complain, nor would you want to become embroiled in discussions about your boss
with other employees, as it will always get back to them eventually. So your
immediate boss very much determines your life, career and circumstances, and
ultimately happiness, within the organization.
While I like Kurt a lot and feel very much supported
by him, it is still puzzling me why he has virtually no work for me and I am
beginning to wonder if anyone else knows that I actually have nothing to do –
apart from the occasional proofread, as I mentioned before. I know that I’m
only supposed to be a secretary here (which of course I’m totally
over-qualified for, having spent most of my life working in informatics) but I
think even a real secretary would have limits in this situation. I have
literally reached the stage where I am embarrassed, ashamed, and yes – even
scared – to mention this state of affairs to a single person, either inside or
outside the entire Institute. It just doesn’t seem right. I keep asking myself
if I should be working on something that I’m not aware of, or if I haven’t
explored things enough. Kurt has explained very little to me – he’s shown me
the project’s website in English, and I have digested it and made linguistic
corrections. And he’s given me access to all his project e-mails for the last
few months, to read – but they mostly seem to just contain inconsequential, insubstantial discussions about minor topics between Kurt and the other two
project heads in our partner institutions. And without further in-depth
explanation, I can’t really make head or tail of them.
When I first met Kurt at the interview, I was a little
taken aback by his seemingly awkward manner of talking, his fixed way of
staring at me unblinkingly and his slightly jerky and awkward movements and
walk. In the meantime, I’ve become more used to it. And because he is kind to
me, and because he chose me for the job, I feel fairly confident with him. I am
not the world’s most confident person, and despite whatever show I try to put
on for people, I am really quite shy. So it took a lot of nerve for me to pluck
up the courage after about two weeks and tell him that I had nothing at all to
do.
I should explain that I don’t actually meet with Kurt
every day. Only maybe once or maximum twice a week, when he comes to my office.
I guess he thinks that is obligatory, that he at least sees/talks to his
secretary/personal assistant for about 20 minutes a week, just to show he is
interested in the fact that she is there at all. Kind of an “alibi” visit. I
mean, I see Kurt most lunchtimes, because I have chosen to go to the canteen
with the group – we meet every day at precisely 11:37 a.m. outside Kurt’s
office – his stipulation – but if I decided to bring lunch with me from home
and warm it up in the microwave, or chop up a salad, as some people (the other
secretaries) do, I wouldn’t see either the group or Kurt at all on a regular
basis. In fact, I would probably see almost nobody at all, the entire morning. I
would be like a ghost, flitting in and out and not doing anything!
And what happens in these little meetings? Just about
nothing. A lot of hot air is blown around and Kurt makes much of the one or two
tiny tasks I have that week. He can waffle on profoundly for ten minutes about a
two-line e-mail of no consequence that I have to write. Or he will use pompous words
and flamboyant phrases to describe insignificant events that might or might not
happen should certain measures might or might not be implemented, all the while
nodding to emphasize the seriousness of the situation and staring at me with his
unblinking eyes. It is a superpower of academics, I think. To make you believe
that the subject matter is of vital importance and that they absolutely own it.
Anyway, Kurt’s reaction to my telling him that I had
nothing at all to do was to make a little kind of “Mh” noise in his throat,
then turn on his heel and march out of my room without a word, with his awkward
stiff walk. He also closed the door, which I always have open, and I called
out, “Please leave the door open –” but my words were just gone with the wind.
This first time, I was surprised at his rudeness, but then I thought, Maybe he didn’t
understand me properly. Maybe it’s my English accent in German. So a few days
later when he paid me one of his flying visits, I said the same thing again:
“Kurt, I’ve got nothing to do”. I thought he would understand this truly
hellish situation, sitting around for four hours a day staring at my screen or
out of the window, by myself in this room, isolated in a completely different
building from my group, not interacting with anyone. But Kurt just made his
little “Mh” noise again and turned around and marched out of the room, with me
calling “Please leave the d–” and my words being lost in the ether while he
closed the door on me again. It was almost as if he were trying to close me out
of his head, or as if he thought if he closed the door with me inside, I
wouldn’t exist for a while. And quite honestly, that’s how I feel. As if I
don’t exist.
After my third attempt to convey my desperation, I
extended my usual complaint with the addendum, “Please, could you give me
something to do?”
This time, Kurt stared at me with his unblinking,
emotionless eyes and snapped, “Then do something that moves you forward!”, in a
cold, almost aggressive manner, and turned on his heel and marched, head down
and stiff, out of the room, almost slamming the door behind him and closing me
out of his life and possibly his conscience yet again.
I don’t even know what that sentence means! I will not
be asking him again.
I have developed a method for coping with this
situation. As usual, I continue to get up at 6:30 a.m. I perform all my
routines: shower, dressing, breakfast, makeup, nails, etc. I make sure I look
as nice as possible every day, even though almost no-one is going to see me. I
leave the house a few minutes before 8 a.m. and drive the 35-40 minutes to work.
The drive is always stressful – a lot of traffic and congestion at this time of
the morning. I usually arrive just after 8:30 a.m. at work, having been up for
just over two hours, and in peak functioning mode. I fetch a coffee
and then start to wind down all my engines, which in the meantime I can do
pretty quickly, because I have been practicing it for weeks. I bring myself to
a level where I am completely composed and serene, and where I am expecting
nothing, absolutely nothing at all to unruffle or provoke me. Effectively, I am
in a state where I am not really capable of any kind of challenging work. I
would go so far as to say that I am not really capable of any kind of work at
all! I am content and relaxed, and I can sit there for the next four hours and
just do nothing, if necessary. Essentially, I am almost in a trance. It is my
survival mechanism.
Next episode: Siegfried and the Professor
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