Don't you just hate the first day of a new job?

All the nervousness about what to wear.

Not knowing anyone.

Will they like me?

Should I take lunch or do they all buy it?

Did they all love the bloke who got sacked so I could have a job?

All the usual worries.

I got thinking about this because of the woman who made the headlines the other day with what might rate as the worst first day on the job ever.

It seems she’d been employed to join the staff at O’Reilly’s resort, in Lamington National Park.

She turned up early, as you should on your first day, and decided she might go for a walk until it was time to start work.

That’s when things went a little pear-shaped.

O’Reilly’s, of course, is located in fairly rugged country and somehow this woman managed to get herself well and truly lost while on her walk.

Thankfully, she’d already said g'day to her new bosses so when she failed to come back at her starting time, they didn’t just pass her up as a no-show.

Can you imagine her horror when she realised she was lost?

What sort of an impression is that to make on your first day?

The SES, rescue choppers and police were all called in to help find her but it was six hours before she was located.

Call me a little twisted but while I’m glad she’s all right, I have just two questions I would like answered.

1. What the hell did she say to her boss when she saw him?

2. Did she get a second chance?

I’m willing to bet she did but I’m also willing to bet that the next time she arrived for work early, she sat in her car and read a book.

I think most of us have had memorable first days on the job.

I remember when my stellar career as a journalist began on December 31, 1979.

That’s New Year’s Eve, in case you hadn’t noticed, and my boss at the Stanthorpe Border Post walked into the office about three o’clock and anounced that it was time to head for the pub and he was shouting.

"You bloody beauty," I thought.

"This working thing is a bit of all right."

So it was a bit embarassing when he walked into the office at about the same time a few days later and I automatically began packing up my desk.

“What do you think you’re doing?”he demanded.

“Heading for the pub,” I replied in complete innocence.

How disappointed was I when I learnt the truth!

I don’t remember him ever taking me to the pub again.

I was so young and naive then.

Now I’m just naive.

Now that I come to think about it, almost 25 years later one of my first days here at the Daily was fairly memorable too.

I’d been here for a couple of weeks when the departure of another journalist saw me moved down to a desk in the back corner.

They must have been a fairly tight-knit mob down there because the female journo I sat beside obviously wasn’t keen on me.

No sooner had I sat down than a message arrived in my computer’s inbox.

"We have some rules down here in the back corner," it said.

"Firstly, don’t ever talk when I’m on the phone.

"There will be no music and I’d appreciate it if you’d eat your lunch in the lunchroom - people who eat at their desk make me want to vomit.

"I’m not your friend, so don’t try to engage me in small talk and no, I don’t want to hear about your wife/girlfriend/children/pets ... and I definitely don’t want to see photos of them.

"And finally, never, ever be nice to new staff members - I hate that sort of thing and most of them aren’t here long so it’s a waste of your time and energy.

"By the way, I like my coffee with a milk and one sugar."

Let me tell you, I had to call on all my boyish charm to win her over.

She’s not with us any more.

Last I heard she was working as a prison guard (just kidding).

And I never did get around to making her that coffee.

Look out, it’s three o’clock.

Who’s up for the pub?