Samuel Merrin: Fear and Self-Loathing at the Reception Desk

I've already written a little bit about my experiences as a man working what might traditionally be called "a woman's job." I think I must know now what it's like to be a male nurse, or a male nanny, or a male...female bathroom inspector. I see on the faces of people who walk up to my desk that they're expecting to see a woman. Hopefully a smiling woman, a woman who will brighten up their day with their cheery demeanor and helpful driving directions. But at my reception desk, they will find no such woman. Just a swivel chair, a computer, and Samuel Merrin.

I see it all the time. A man will walk up. A man who maybe has had a bad day. He thinks, here is my chance. If I can just get a smile from a woman, that will make the day worth living. If I can just catch a small glimpse of happiness in my cold, dreary life, that will be enough. They look to the reception desk for hope, for affection, for something that loosely resembles a social interaction. What they get is a stone-faced 26-year old man dedicated exclusively to watching the clock.

It's worse for me because I guess before I came to fill in the temporary opening for this receptionist gig, the woman before me (who left to go on maternity leave) was apparently a huge ray of sunshine. I can't tell you the number of times I have heard talk of "Sandra," who made everyone's day. Sandra used to bring in muffins. Sandra's baby shower was more fun than my bachelor party. Sandra told the best jokes. Sandra's smile made my day. I miss Sandra. Sandra was like a sister to me.

You get the idea.

Sandra was a saint, and now they're left with me. I answer phones with a gruff voice, I don't have a smile for anyone, and I resent Sandy and her sunshiney attitude. Sometimes I think even telephone callers are disappointed. They never say anything, but something in the way they lilt their voice tells me: you are not good enough.

I don't know how long I'll stay at this job. I really don't feel wanted. I think everyone's secretly hoping that Sandra will put her child into daycare at 14 days so she can come back to work. Socio-normative traditional child-rearing practices be damned--these people need Sandra!

I bet that baby loves Sandra, too. What's wrong with the world?