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A year ago I was a staff analyst getting drunk on weekdays, streaming Opening Day, The Masters, and March Madness on my computer. I had a quick alt-tab reflex and was the master of looking busy. With all that being said, I still felt like I should have been promoted. When I did have work to do, I actually did good work, and it was pretty good. And fast. Because I’m under the age of 40. I was in need of a change after almost three years in that position. I got a call from a company looking to hire new drones, and I listened.
I took a new role last year with a public accounting company as a senior analyst, and then quickly got put on a client full-time. Fast-forward only one year from eating Whataburger breakfasts in order to soak up the alcohol from the night before, I was offered a Manager role with the client I was working on. More money, same role, and a signing bonus. Needless to say, I took it. I’m really not trying to brag, just trying to paint a picture of an unexpected rise in the ranks. Sometimes it’s not what you know, or even who you know. It’s a matter of being in the right place at the right time.
Let me interject that the company I am working for is facing a financial crisis. I took a risk for the upward transition, but the change in title to put on the resume was worth it. A month after I took the job, my Director got let go. Fuck you, oil prices. With the change, I am now the acting Chief Audit Executive of a publicly-traded drilling company. I have no idea what I’m doing. Ok. I do, but I don’t.
Everyone says you must fake it until you make it, but what happens when you actually make it? Over the last two weeks, my days have been filled with meetings, presentations, and ad-hoc reports that either the board or some big-shot executive needs. I am constantly working to give them a response that doesn’t include “I have no fucking clue.” I also have to perform the daily tasks like I was doing in my original role. I am a department of one (my boss is great). I can only describe my situation as being instantly put into the big leagues after a three year tenure of playing in a beer league Tuesday nights. I know how to swing a bat, but I’m not sure I can hit a 90 mph fastball coming at me as my first pitch.
I went from crunching numbers in a cube to setting up golf strategy meetings with VP’s and C-suite suits. All I can say is I’m excited for the opportunity, but also afraid of shitting the bed. To get back to the baseball analogy, I don’t need to hit a home-run, I just need to find a way to advance the runner, and keep things moving forward..