I’m here, and I’m new, and I’m tired and can’t remember which room
holds the precious store of coffee.

It’s a strange new place indeed, so different from last gig that
remarking upon it would probably end up encyclopedic. It’s so hushed
and clean and efficient, I find it surreal.

When I began at my last job, there was a long, yellow sheet of legal
pad paper apologizing that not everything had been set up for my
arrival and no one was there to greet me. For the first couple of
days, I struggled to get a telephone and network access for the clunky
beige desktop and a key to my office. I scrounged for supplies within
the drawers of the uncleaned office I inherited.

Today, there was an empty cubicle space (I know not an office, as
before, but it’s glass and wood and oriented very privately) waiting
for me. There was no computer or telephone yet, but there were
apologies and within an hour, IT had set up both. They both look to
be straight out of the box. (The keyboard even still has those
plastic sheets that say "remove before use.")

Best of all, sitting on top of the desk was a box full of brand new
office supplies, all for me. New pens, new scissors, new tape and
dispenser.

Nothing at my last job was new. I bought new stuff for other people,
but the administrative code was essentially "make do."

Everything is also state of the art, amazingly so. Sad to say, given
my gadget-whore core, the telephone is intimidating as all hell. It’s
VOIP and somehow magically works with MS Outlook. For the first time
ever, I am a-scared and a-quiver in the face of technology.

Of course, I am literally in the middle of Silicon Valley, using the
resources of one of the areas founding farthers, so I shouldn’t be
amazed. But, fucking hell, the philanthropy side of non-profit rocks
the house compared to the grant-begging side.

They tell me that there are "cafes" in each wing and floor with water,
a selection of teas and oatmeal and coffee brewed and stocked by
magical fairies. In the main kitchen (which is fucking huge and
gourmet caliber, seriously, you could bake a pie there), there’s
scheduled breakfast foods — bagels alternating with muffins per the
day of the week.

Three days of the week, they serve lunch for everyone, gratis. In the
summers, one of those lunches is an outdoor barbecue.

So far, the wildest perquisite of all — Each and every bathroom has
an assortment of feminine hygiene products, stylishly available in a
wicker basket.

This shit is fucked up.