The New Boy

Remember the nerves and the raw emotion of farewells and the first days at the new job?

My name is Michael Diop and I am a Press Officer. I am also 'the new boy' in the office, having recently joined The London Borough of Greenwich Council Communications Office, following a year as Press and Communications Officer for the Education Department in Southwark.

Although it may seem odd in my 30th year, being the new boy (or girl) in the office has a number of parallels with those experiences we all face as children, joining a new school. It’s that heady combination of fear, excitement, anticipation, fear, bewilderment, and oh yes, did I mention fear?

This sense of fear is of course a quite natural phenomenon; but like the hairstyle choice of Rt. Hon. Boris Johnson MP, it may well be a natural phenomenon, but that does not make it a pleasant one.

Sell yourself

For me the fear begins at the opening stages of the recruitment process. Something to do with that awful phrase 'selling yourself'. I’ve never felt comfortable about discussing my career. I’m quite happy to talk about the job that I do, which I am fortunate enough to say is interesting, often challenging and suitably varied to keep me actively engaged and content.

If you sat in a pub on a Monday evening and asked me, 'Where do you see yourself in five years time?' - the only appropriate answer I could confidently provide would be, "Hopefully sat here, discussing something other than my career".

The recruitment process for my new job was mercifully straightforward and the chances of embarrassing encounters were kept to the bare minimum. There was the interview, rarely a joyful experience, although my experience at Greenwich was that the panel were friendly, open and not interested in ‘grilling’ me.

Moreover, I was saved the indignity of a Recruitment Open Day, holed up in a training centre with 50 overly keen graduates, seemingly willing participants in all manner of getting to know you exercises, problem-solving 'games' (surely games should be fun) – not to mention the two words I most dread in the world of work, 'role play'!

What do you do to hand-over?

This rhetorical question is what an ex-colleague said to me in jest (I’m sure) when I explained what I was working on in my final days at my previous job.

I’m not sure which I least prefer, having someone shadow me for a time or assembling a handover for the new member of staff. The problem with shadowing is that you are forced to think about what you do and how you work rather that just getting on with it.

I found myself in my final days set the task of providing a suitable handover to the person who would be replacing me. Suddenly, paranoia hits and you find yourself trying to justify your very existence. I persevere with my handover, drafting, re-drafting, seeking feedback etc. I begin to wonder if I am becoming desperate and starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel when I add things like:

• make coffees and teas
• smile at more people
• lose 4 stones.

Goodbye Walworth Road…

I’ve said goodbye to the safely and comfort of my job at Southwark. I’ve had the leaving do and am very happy with the number of positive messages on my card, not to mention my brand new rice steamer.

Well Hel-lo Greenwich!

It is time to begin my first week at Greenwich. The gates of the fear factory open once more for business, Will they like me? Have I made the right decision? Am I up to this? How will I compare to those who went before?

One lump or two?

In fact, the first few days are actually filled with the attempted acquisition a number of practical pieces of information, like remembering people’s names, where the toilets are and how people like their drinks.

In the good old days people drank tea or they drank coffee.

At Greenwich we are faced with an all-singing all-dancing (not literally of course, that would be absurd) drinks machine. It seems able to provide four hundred and seventy-two different types of heated beverage! Rich Roast, Smooth Roast, Red Tea, Green Tea, Herbal Tea. Practically all the tea in China seems to be available. Mocha-chino, Choca-chino, Cappuccino (of course) and completely maverick options such as something called Lemon Calm – which happens to be a particular favourite within the office. The once perfectly harmless chore of making teas has become a modern day minefield of numerous choices. ‘Choices’ – one of today’s watchwords that politicians and business always tell us that we crave, we desire and deserve.

The turkey voting for Christmas

Normally you learn to stay well clear of emails from colleagues asking for 'willing volunteers'. Conscious of the requirement as new boy to exude both enthusiasm and keenness, I found myself opening this email and signing up to take part in a photocall, to publicise a new Council campaign.

The campaign is to launch a card for residents listing reputable and reliable tradespeople. So, on the morning of the shoot, the two other victims, sorry, willing participants, and I find ourselves dressed up as dodgy tradespeople, a builder, plumber and carpenter.

I’m in a rather fetching sky blue all-in-one set of protective overalls topped of with a bright yellow builders’ hardhat. I look like a bizarre and slightly disturbing amalgamation of Bob the Builder and an enormous baby in a man-sized babygrow. "It’s all in a good cause", I tell myself as the puzzled shoppers of Woolwich try to make some sense of what on earth is going on.

If there’s one thing more worrying than an enthusiastic photographer, then it must be an over-enthusiastic photographer. Apparently we look too clean, if one can ever look too clean. Within minutes the 5ft 11inch baby that I have now become is being doused, ironically not unlike a baby, in talc (or builders dust) from head to toe. Anyway, we get the necessary shots and everyone’s happy, I return to my desk, the sweetest smelling baby in the borough!

"You like me, you really like me!"

(Sally Field’s slightly misquoted dénouement from her infamous Best Actress Oscar 1985 acceptance speech.)

In work, as in life, we seek a certain amount of praise, respect, recognition for our efforts. Peer or colleague recognition and respect is the most powerful of motivators as it suggests that we are both competent in our jobs but also welcomed as an important part of the team.

One morning, a couple of weeks into my job at Greenwich, our Head of Communication came into the office, "Michael, have you seen that you have made it into PR Week?"PR Week is the national in-house magazine of the world of public relations and communications. I hide my glee and nonchalantly pick up the copy to which she refers.

What an honour! How am I introduced? What section am I in? Perhaps Movers and Shakers or Key Appointments. No wait, it will be a special feature on Ten names in PR for the future.

My misplaced pride is short-lived as I come face-to-face with a photograph of a man who seems to be repelling a trio of unsightly and unsavoury characters, one of which inexplicably appears to be a 6ft tall baby, who has been left on his own with a family-sized bottle of talcum powder. And there I am, in full colour, my crowning glory, under the headline, "Greenwich Council clamps down on dodgy builders".

"You like me, you really like me!"