Want to feel old and marvel at how quickly time passes?
Yesterday marked one year at my new job. Which I suppose isn’t new anymore.
When most of my TNP coworkers found out (by my chirping “Today’s my anniversary!” — I keep track of these things) they mostly marveled that it seems like I’ve been there longer than a year.
Which either means:
I choose to believe the first.
When I started, I fully expected to be fired in three months because of old dogs/new tricks syndrome. So I pledged that I would only bring in so much of my own stuff that I could take out in one bag.
It’s all still really new to me and I still feel like I have mountains of things to learn. But I have a great team and everyone there is wicked-smart and vibrant.
BUT…I now know which doors/stairwells take me to the desired entrances/exists of both the PATCO train and the subway system that I take. I learned how to get into Center City and back within the course of one hour and three minutes. (Goal for this year: get that to 59 minutes.) I also worked our TNP booth at two meetings (not in the job description but fun, nonetheless). Do you know what PivotTables are? I do now.
It’s been a great year at TNP — I think I’ll re-up for another. If they keep me. Oh, please don’t let me get fired this year!
I’d have written this up last night, but it’s butt-cold here and I spent the evening huddled under quilts in the living room while our heaters roared. (Electricity is included in our rent here at the dee-luxe apartment in the sky!)
While in Target this weekend getting some shopping done I noticed that Tazo Tea is doing a bit of a makeover on its products:
The one on the right has the old look. The buff colored package, the decorative font and the lined border always invoked an image of minarets and Middle Eastern architecture. Even though it’s owned by Starbucks and can be purchased in … well … Target, Tazo’s packaging made you think you were drinking something exotic.
The package on the left is the new look. This screams “day spa for ladies who lunch.” The box is white like a terrycloth bathrobe and the logo has lost its serifs. Even the poor O was stripped of the compass rose lines. And the food stylist worked overtime on the ingredients.
I’m not a tea
snob aficionado by any stretch, but this minimalist look makes as much impact on the shelf as a thrice-used teabag does in a cup of cold water.