“Can you MapQuest Cambridge BioMarketing? I’m lost in the pharmaceutical district of Cambridge,” I explained to my half-asleep roommate.
“Uhhh…I’m on Second Street. Or wait…no Third Street, I lied. Actually…I could be on Fourth Street…is there even a Fourth Street?” I blabbed as I paced around looking for an intersection that I could give her.
“No, I can’t walk 100 feet. In 100 feet I’ll be in the Charles,” I said.
When I finally stumbled upon 245 First Street, I marched in and assuredly walked toward the elevator. Having been there once before, I was confident I knew where I was going.
After riding up and down the parking garage elevator countless times, I finally found the correct elevator and made it to the 12th floor.
It was then that my exciting adventure began.
One of my first days at CB, I was dubbed “Baby Kate” (and not because of my childish antics). Steve, the intern who preceded me, shared his name with the CEO, Steve West. As you can see, the clear solution was to call the intern “Baby Steve”…no one dared call the CEO “Grandpa Steve.”
And while there were no other Kates in the office when I arrived, my coworkers felt it appropriate and necessary to call me Baby Kate.
And so it was.
It had a ring to it. Madonna, Prince, Lady Gaga…Baby Kate. I liked it.
I had a new name, my very own cube with my very own extension and my very own company email address. Corporate America welcomed me with open arms.
But Cambridge Bio wasn’t exactly how I had imagined Corporate America would be. When I walked into the kitchen for the first time, I was taken aback at the chip boxes stacked miles high and the M&M’s and jellybean dispensers on the wall.
What other office has a jellybean dispenser? I was in heaven.
After indulging in a snack or six, I dove headfirst into the wonderful world of professional healthcare advertising.
A coworker handed me a manuscript that included words like “paroxysmal nocturnal hemoglobinuria,” “thrombosis,” and “hemolysis.” Needless to say, it was all Greek to me.
Speaking of which, I was exposed to my first page of real “Greek”—Lorem Ipsum—early on in my copy career.
“Is this a test? I’m really in over my head now,” I thought to myself as I struggled to make sense of what I was reading.
Things got a little easier after that.
I slowly but surely began to familiarize myself with some of the diseases and medical jargon that was floating around the office. And by familiarize, I mean that I was able to pronounce a word here and there.
One of my first independent assignments was to write instructions on “How to Fold a Paper Crane” for 1000 Cranes of Hope, a new site for Millennium: The Takeda Oncology Company.
Piece of cake…or so I thought.
After over a week of making edits, I set out to test my instructions on some willing and eager officemates. As it turns out, one crane ended up with conjoined wings.
Epic fail.
For the next few days, half-finished cranes spilled over the sides of my cube until, finally, I completed a set of coherent crane-folding instructions.
There was hope for me yet!
The 1000 Cranes of Hope project took off, winning a coveted CLIO Healthcare Award. I am proud to say that I was able to be a part of it.
I landed the title, “crane-folding guru.’ I will add that to my resumé.
Every day presents new struggles and new opportunities, and I am learning and learning and learning. I never stop asking questions, as annoying as it may be, and I work with the most intelligent, supportive people in the world.
I couldn’t ask for anything more…
…except maybe an office.
- Kate McKenna
