Oh dear! It seems that I have been caught out. The thing is, Tree, that today is actually yesterday or at least the events shown here, happened there, as it were.
The problem is that I couldn’t allow another Tuesday to do its stinking best to ruin my week. That’s how I ended up playing let’s pretend until Wednesday and now I’m ready to talk about it.
The only way I could face going back to work fulltime (or more specifically back to this particular job) was to tell myself that it was only temporary. Somehow, I reasoned, given 12 or maybe even 18 months I’d be ready to make that graceful leap into the great chair that I really do want to swivel in.
I’m not sure why the mad cogs in my head settled upon a year or a year and half to ‘get there’. I suppose 5 years, although more realistic, is just too long a sentence to contemplate. It’s got a distinctly long-term air about it. Half a decade! It’s just not that temporary. I bargained on less than 2 years, not through mapping a regimented set of goals, but a quick finger in the air for what seemed about right. Also, more importantly, for what sounded bearable.
Well, that was the plan...
Today, or yesterday for the purists, that notion was rather annoyingly swatted away by an altogether more solid strategy; someone else’s plan. Honestly the cheek of it!
It was revealed, via a conference call presentation that the new systems changes that we’ve been told will make life so much simpler, could indeed leave us with a lot more free time.
Suddenly, waking up and moaning to Hoobiz that, ‘I wish I didn’t have to go to work today’, seemed just about the worst thing that I could have said.
It’s trite but true, ‘be careful what you wish for, because...’
Of course I didn’t mean, ‘Oh I can’t be bothered this morning. You know what? I hope I lose my job.’ No, I was looking for an impromptu holiday or a day off for good behaviour.
In fairness, it wasn’t explicitly discussed. I mean, there wasn’t a slide titled ‘On yer bike’, or a string of bullet points, ‘Goodbye!’, ‘Farewell!’, ‘Auf Wiedersehen’ and ‘Hop it!’. It wasn’t even raised as an audible question, but the silence was buzzing with it.
Let’s face it - even if you’re on a mystery tour, when you start to notice that you’re following all signs for Sheffield, it isn’t tricky to work out that you are not headed for the Moon.
Well my arbitrary 12-18 months is now looking like a more concrete 6 or 7, maybe even eight at the outside.
It’s an outrage! I can’t tell you how cross I am. I was supposed to be the Dumper, not the Dumpee!
Oh well! Get it together girl! Come on, you’ll just have to be completely focused. It’s time to squeeze that ‘really should have been a five year plan’ into a concentrated few months. That’s the spirit! This might just be the kick up the bum you’ve been looking for. Yes, in the long run this could turn out to be a blessing.
Well those were the words in my head. Unfortunately, my actions were out loud.
After the call, I guzzled 4 pieces of toast, 2 apples and 3 bowls of cereal. I’m really not sure how this was supposed to help, as I now felt both fat and redundant.
Perhaps I thought, ‘Yeah! That’ll show them! As if I could be replaced by a machine! Come on! See me devour stuff! I am the ultimate combine harvester.’
Anyway, it’s not something I’ll be adding to my CV – Very piggy when stressed.
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