For the first time in months, I'm employed again by a big company. But this time, it's a really big company.

A year ago, if you'd told me I'd be clicking my heels across marble floors to get to my place of employment, or bidding goodnight each evening to a uniformed doorman as I stride back across those same floors home, I'd have laughed. Newspapers may be noble institutions, but they rarely are housed in noteworthy buildings. They are long on function, short on decor, trimmings or - most criminal - any sense of feng shui.

But so it is. And hell, maybe it's not marble - like I would know. But it looks like it to me, and it sounds better - for the sake of this blog entry - to describe it as such. The uniformed doorman is genuine, however. He is gray-haired, distinguished, and smiley - just like a doorman should be. His name is Allan (don't let me forget that).

I've spent the last two days filling out forms, listening to Webcasts and taking online courses required in my "development plan." It's all new and different to me, particularly these course tests. I'm not sure if anyone's checking my grades. I rather hope not, cuz I darn near failed record keeping.

My son would have aced it. I was instructed to decide how to dispose of the items that would fly by on the top of the screen. Along the bottom were three objects: a shredder, a garbage can and a filing cabinet. "Click 'start' when ready," the computer advised. I hesitated. My finger quivered a bit above the enter key - I was nervous.

This method seemed a red herring among all the tests that had proceeded it, and I didn't like that they had mixed it up. What was wrong with the check boxes and true-or-false format they'd used in previous tests? What frustrated games-addict had gotten his way with this one? And as long as he'd gotten the clear to do so, why hadn't he used a frog with a sticky tongue to zap the documents into the containers? Sound effects - maybe a belch from the frog or a slam of a garbage can lid - would have been nice, too. If you're gonna do something different, do it all the way!

Finally, I started. The items rolled from right to left, more quickly than I'd anticipated. I panicked, placed a birthday card from my colleagues in the shredder instead of the garbage can, a draft document into the filing cabinet instead of the shredder. Then I scored: Consumer profiles dropped into the filling cabinet! Official board meeting minutes -- same! Used Kleenex? I slam-dunked the slimy thing into the garbage can! And passed.

This is but one of the harrowing adventures I've undergone in these last 48 hours.

Far worse is the test of matching faces to names. I've met approximately 229 people in the last two days. Or maybe 19, I can't be sure. Here is how an average introduction has gone:

"Jane, this is Brad. He's the CE for the NPs, in charge of TLS."

I stare at Brad, who beams at me expectantly.

"Wow," I say. I want to add, "Whatever that is, I'm sure you're just fabulous at it." Instead, I say, "Nice to meet you."

Because I feel momentarily reluctant to identify my new employer (surely my new boss is blog-trolling), I will tell you only that this is a medical company. Most of the people employed here have medical backgrounds. They know what these abbreviations mean. Me, I'm a journalist. I understand BOCC (board of county commissioners), HOA (c'mon, surely you know), ACE (assistant city editor), and OT (because we were told daily not to get one second of it).

I do not get NP - until someone in HR (I get that one, too), tells me it means Nurse Practitioner.

But I am new. I am a fine, smart addition to the company. I will admit no weaknesses, yet. Instead, I'll nod and hope no one sees my utter lack of comprehension.

For the moment, I understand all I need to. Paycheck. (Bigger than any I have ever received in my life). Expense account. Company American Express card. And cell phone.

I now have a company-issued cell phone. That means I have two -- my personal phone, and my company phone.

I am in a quandary about this. For now, I carry them both. The company Webcasts warn that it can look at your Internet history, read any e-mail sent from the company computer and put a boot on your car wheel if you lie about your mileage. Wait - that was the Gazette, maybe they weren't quite that extreme. At any rate, I'm nervous, and so reluctant to make my company phone my personal one as well.

The combined weight of two tiny phones is too much for the wee, cheap purses I favor. My shoulder already hurts. And I am horrified at the idea that both of them will ring at once someday in a public place. I will fumble through a tangle of shoulder straps - the company laptop and the electronic company notebooks we will be issued next month - to find them. People will turn and sneer, thinking, as I would, "Please, who does she think she is?"

And I will tell them, "I'm a DH MA-PD AE at EVC for UHG." That oughta shut 'em up.