Disoriented

What's the most you ever lost on a coin toss?

I have orientation at the hospital in the morning. I am trying to set my alarm for 5:45 a.m., but the 'minute' button stopped working so I can't nuance the time. My options are 5:00 or 6:00.

I wake at 5:45 anyway, before my alarm goes off. That is so fucking eerie. What else am I hyper aware of when I'm sleeping?

Getting dressed takes forever. I have like six pairs of tan dress socks, but here in the dark bedroom I can't find a match. I keep holding the lightest ones up to my face and squinting, like that’s going to help.

As I stand in front of my closet I wonder if Makayla will be there today. Makayla is a beautiful girl I rode the elevator with last week. We have a lot in common. It turns out, she and I were both going to get tested for tuberculosis at the same time. I didn't actually talk to her; I just heard her say her name was Makayla when she signed in. Not that it matters, but I think she was kind of into me.

The dress code is 'business casual,' which, for men, means I don't need a tie but I do have to wear a big ugly watch and brown shoes. I end up wearing a pair of Brooks Brothers khakis I inherited. Even though I've never worn them before, they are stained.

I arrive with about 5 minutes to spare, so I go to the bathroom to check on my hair. Biking after a shower is a wild card. Sometimes it sort of looks fashionably tousled, like Johnny Depp's or Han Solo's, but usually I end up looking like a handicapped child whose mom cuts his hair.

For some reason there is no mirror in the bathroom. I feel the contours of my locks and decide not to mess with it too much. I'm sure it's fine.

The orientation is held in one of those huge carpeted conference rooms. I am one of about 40 new hires but I get there in time to sit at a table by myself. I hate sitting down at occupied tables because then you're forced to say 'hello' and make eye contact and stuff, and I didn't go into health care to meet people.

At each seat is a blank tent card and a marker for us to write our names. There are two video projections showing identical slides of corporate information, set to music. For instance, did you know that UNM HSC is rated one of the Top 50 hospitals in the U.S., in which there are 50 states.

As more people arrive, we are instructed to eat the free breakfast in the chafing dishes. There is bacon AND sausage, eggs, french toast, and a fruit salad. I wonder if making an egg sandwich out of french toast would be viewed as piggish?

While in line I notice people looking at me, but this isn't unusual. As long as I don't smile I'm almost always one of the best-looking people in the room. I have movie star looks except in the face.

The power-point soundtrack is playing Chariots of Fire and I feel determined to get my breakfast like a winner.

I sit and eat my scrambled eggs and fruit with a weak cup of coffee. This is when Jennifer arrives. Jennifer is the orientator or whatever, a fact made obvious by the rainbow floral lei she is wearing. She also has a salmon-colored mesh thing that she keeps tied over her shoulders. I believe this is known as a shawl, but it looks like a crazy person's cape to me. Jennifer is peppy, which is her job I suppose. She looks at my name card and then nonchalantly works it into our conversation. "So, John, did you bike here today?" My hair must look worse than I thought.

For the first hour we mostly sit around and wait to meet with a recruiter. The meeting consists of filling out forms, handing in our clean TB tests, and being fingerprinted. While waiting, my table eventually fills up with Serena from Ghana, Eduardo, who is still pretty much asleep, and Brenda, who definitely mistook my 'good morning' for a pass at her. Maybe I shouldn't have wriggled my eyebrows.

The power point asks us to guess the annual budget for the hospital. Apparently it is $650 million. And just think, $9 of that will go to me every hour.

Makayla arrives about half an hour late. She is wearing a Pink University hoodie. It's seems men and women agree: sexy underwear and a college education is an attractive mix.

In front of us is a packet that sort of reiterates what we will cover once we've all signed in with our recruiters. Among the packet is a crossword, a word find, and a maze. Not that I'm great at them but this is unequivocally the most difficult crossword I've ever worked on. It is all about the hospital and requires you to look up the answers in the packet (which is cheating) or to already know a bunch of stuff about the hospital you've just been hired into. I couldn't even get a single answer. To make matters worse I couldn't do the word find or the maze because I couldn't find any crayons.

Chariots of Fire is playing again. I feel its power is being wasted. Why isn't anyone doing anything inspiring?

Where did I get these pants? They make it look like I have a gigantic boner. On the other hand, if I do get a boner it probably won't register.

A joke from the power point: "Did you take the patient's temperature?" "Why? Is it missing?"

After meeting with my recruiter I have to go get an ID badge. I only caught a quick glimpse at the computer screen but my hair forms a weird horn coming off one side. It looks kind of cool, but I think it would be more appropriate if I were a character in a Japanese cartoon.

On my way back to the conference room I stop in another bathroom. Still no mirrors! What a joyless place.

Makayla plays with her hair constantly. She flips it over one shoulder, then twists it up behind her head only to let it drop once more. There is a captivated young man sitting behind her but she is way out of his league. He actually saw me watching him watch her at one point. I sort of laughed and looked away, so now he's keeping his eye out for me. He probably thinks I'm into him. Love triangles are so messy.

Every so often Jennifer likes to take a break and go around the room for introductions. Personally I don't see the point in trying to remember the names of 45 people I will never see again. To make it more fun, Jennifer insists we tell her what high school we attended so she can guess the mascot. One woman, who is from the Philippines, asks what a mascot is. I explain that they are symbols that represent your school and they are usually animals that can kill a person. She nods uncomprehendingly.

One of the topics we cover is what to do if we encounter a suspicious package. Jennifer tells us a story about leaving her (fake) suspicious package in the conference room while everyone went on break. Of course, a janitor entered to clear away some of the food and discovered the package. By the time Jennifer returned the bomb squad had arrived. To prevent this from happening again she has written "Training Aid" on the package. So, again, if you want to plant a real bomb at the hospital you should write 'training aid' and no one will mess with it.

At one point, Jennifer calls on Serena from Ghana. Serena handles the question fine but then she leans over and, looking frightened, asks how does zat wooman knew ma name. I show Serena the name card she filled out about an hour ago and she laughs. Africans.

Jesus, Makayla is fascinated by her own hair.

I'm getting nervous about how corporate this whole event feels, with its blend of overused props and jokes and unengaging speakers. At one point Jennifer does a weird dance to a hip hop song. Everyone laughs but me. I'm looking around to see if Michael Scott will be making an appearance.

The CFO of the hospital is telling us about the money side of things. She says we might notice that some things may look a little worn, like chairs or tables, but that the money is being spent in the right places. I ponder asking about the mirrors. I just don't think I can go 12 hours without checking for nostril stray hairs.

After you've introduced yourself and Jennifer has guessed your mascot you are given a "door prize." Mine is a stress doll of a brown-skinned nurse whose sex is indeterminate. I think it's a woman, but it could also be Javier Bardem.

As an exercise we are told to write down out favorite qualities about the places of business we frequent related to their customer service. I wonder where we're going with this... No one at my table seems to want to do it so I take charge. I grab a scented marker and write down 'instructive.' We go around the table and choose adjectives that sum up our feelings and I write them down. One of the girls from another table laughs when I post ours. Apparently my handwriting is too tidy, or my column too straight. Whichever it is, she calls me a 'Type A personality,' a label I find inaccurate and patently unfair. I'm easy going and cooperative. She doesn't know a thing about me. Who does that fucking whore think she is anyway?

Speaking of handwriting, I see Makayla's name card. Her letters are large loopy shapes, like a child's attempt at cursive. Around them she's doodled designs and patterns using every marker available to her. It is the most elaborate name tag I've ever seen. I decide we should probably break up. She's just not the person I thought she was.

As we are dismissed I see my former rival lingering by Makayla's table. I nod at him and hop on my bike to head home, my hair blowing wildly in the wind.