The Devil Wears Prada

If you have not read this book or seen the movie (The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger), then drop what you are doing and go read or watch right now. Then you can come back and finish reading the blog, otherwise you'll have no background for this post. I guess you can cheat and read the summary IMDB or wiki or something, but it's just not the same. And don't say I didn't warn you.

So I do not know the devil (Thank you, Jesus) nor claim to think anyone I work with or for or near resembles. I do not wear Prada. For a number of reasons, with the first being that I can't afford it. The second is that it's totally impractical for me and my job. The third is that I couldn't tell the difference between Prada and Prado if someone held a gun to my head.

I do, however, feel as if my job is sometimes likened to that of a personal assistant rather than a Research Manager. I mean, honestly. Below is a list of the number of things I've had to do, which is completely fine because lets be honest, who wants to do the same thing day in and day out? But I also feel like I need to draw the line somewhere, right? Because some days it's just so frustrating and makes me want to absolutely pull my hair out...and it's finally long-ish. So that's shocking that I would ever want to pull it out. And its not like I think I'm above of any of these things (who could possibly not want to go buy underwear? For someone else?), but it always happens at the very end of my day when I'm trying to go or home or inevitably, when I have about 57 other very pressing things I'm trying to get done.

1. Make PB&J sandwiches measuring out the sandwich in grams and PB and J in tablespoons and teaspoons.

2. Buy underwear for our subjects (for the BodPod, but underwear nonetheless).

3. Drop everything I'm doing for 12 spontaneous meetings.

4. Drop everything I'm doing to coordinate an entire lunch for the staff and people coming to see the campus...in 12 hours.

5. Drop everything I'm doing and go buy bins (color coded rubbermaid containers) to separate our three different types of Q-chews (they look like Starbursts but, unfortunately, are not) to put them on display because the company who funds a number of our studies is coming to our lab in 15 minutes...and make the display look pretty...and whip up a couple artsy, attractive signs denoting which bin is what...and throughout the 5 hours on campus, the CEO never even enters our lab.

6. Towel off sweaty athletes (which is why Prada is impractical).

7. Hand-feed granola bars to athletes who pass out.

8. Answer questions I do not know the answers to.

9. Make folders with copies of all kinds of research proposals and journal articles (in color when our color printer does not communicate with my computer) 1 hour before a meeting with the company big-wigs.

10. Send out emails to subjects outlining and answering in a very detailed manner every question they could possibly have and receive a million emails back asking questions that I've already answered. Makes me feel so neglected and unimportant! Why do I even send these emails in the first place?

11. Track down every dollar and cent spent, and if it's unaccounted for, find out where it is and why it has been spent. This particularly stresses me out. I hate money. I hate worrying about money. It stresses me out to the max, and to have to worry about my own bills and then worry some more about Appalachian's bills is beyond my realm of comfort and desire. Especially when they are supplies for a number of complex assays that require products of names I can't even say...I just order what I'm told.

12. Or hey, I have this box of samples that need to get to Texas by tomorrow morning, and I know its 5 pm, but they're on dry ice and they have to go. Now.

13. And finally, I know it's Friday afternoon, but I have an order for supplies I need by next week for this assay that HAS to be done, and it's only 22 things from 5 different companies. That's okay, right? Oh and the product numbers I gave you aren't correct...you can still find them right?

No really, my boss is fantastic and the people I work with are wonderful, but sometimes, I feel like Andrea going to get perfect lattes from Starbucks every morning that are never perfect enough, tying white Hermes scarves, and locating people and things with no direction. No direction is key. I love instruction and direction because then I know exactly what I'm supposed to do and what is expected of me...everything is just too broad. And I'm pretty amazing, but I'm not that amazing...some days I just feel like I can't do anything right, let alone everything. Especially at the last minute.

Sigh. Is it really only Monday? Sometimes, I wish my job was just reading books. All kinds, but sometimes mindless, intriguing, entertaining stuff like The Devil Wears Prada or James Patterson or Nicholas Sparks...anywhere I can get lost in a world that's not my own. A world with no Mondays.