Call Me Omorosa

When your employer wants to send you to Las Vegas for three days, all expenses paid, that's a good thing, right? Then why am I as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs?

I'm being sent off to Las Vegas from February 7-10 for what my workplace calls "Camp Organic." It's a three-day exercise in team-building and exceptional experiences. It's also said to be something of a "hell week" packed into a few days. It's not interfacing with strangers (co-workers from other offices along with innocent Las Vegas bystanders) that has me spooked. Moreover, it's that I hear you don't get a lot of sleep. Personally, I haven't pulled an all-nighter for over a decade.

At Comcast Cablevision I worked the most bizarre schedule that I've ever had. A few days I came in at five in the morning, others I worked from four in the afternoon to four A.M. Thursdays were my easiest day, working from 1 P.M. to 8 P.M. Some shifts were incredibly intense while others consisted of me simply swapping out tapes that dubbed an hour at a time all night. It was probably a four man job that I accomplished with one other co-worker. It was murder on my social life but was great for going a little nutty and writing and photocopying Cashiers du Cinemart during the wee hours.

The way I'm trying to psyche myself up for Camp Organic is by thinking about all of those challenges the dimwits on "The Apprentice" deal with week after week. I've been a regular viewer of that show since its second season (I even watched the Martha Stewart version) and I often found myself yelling at the television screen about their incompetence and lack of vision. I also would roll my eyes when people bailed during crunch time. I don't want to be one of those lamewads. While everyone else will be participating in Camp Organic, I'll be playing my own personal game of The Apprentice. Wish me luck.