The resignation letter landed in my boss’s lap on Friday afternoon, plonked there by myself, stifling a smile as broad as Cheshire itself. It was the start of winding down and being invisible.
I am just approaching a week of being dispensable and it is feeling really rather good. It is getting to be quite difficult to fill my days, but enough aimless wanders to the deli or the library seem to do the trick.
When I do finally get back to my desk, the mountains of paperwork are not there, the queries too have been funneled toward the new boss. People are even saying, “Why am I asking you? You don’t care!” And it’s true, but there’s no need to vocalize it. Surely my slouched seated stance and distant stare out of the window is evidence enough.
I even woke up an hour late today, which made me late for work. But I still found time to arse around on Twitter at home before my shower, safe in the knowledge that no-one is going to give two hoots if I walk through the door late. And no-one did.
It is a bit like being invisible. Arguments are breaking out among my staff and I am sitting back and watching, like I am at a tennis match. And smiling. It justifies my decision to leave. No-one looks to me for a resolution, no-one asks for an opinion. I have another week left, at least, and I think you are going to see my blog count go up. Because I am writing them all at work.
I am just approaching a week of being dispensable and it is feeling really rather good. It is getting to be quite difficult to fill my days, but enough aimless wanders to the deli or the library seem to do the trick.
When I do finally get back to my desk, the mountains of paperwork are not there, the queries too have been funneled toward the new boss. People are even saying, “Why am I asking you? You don’t care!” And it’s true, but there’s no need to vocalize it. Surely my slouched seated stance and distant stare out of the window is evidence enough.
I even woke up an hour late today, which made me late for work. But I still found time to arse around on Twitter at home before my shower, safe in the knowledge that no-one is going to give two hoots if I walk through the door late. And no-one did.
It is a bit like being invisible. Arguments are breaking out among my staff and I am sitting back and watching, like I am at a tennis match. And smiling. It justifies my decision to leave. No-one looks to me for a resolution, no-one asks for an opinion. I have another week left, at least, and I think you are going to see my blog count go up. Because I am writing them all at work.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment