Episode IV: A New Hope

One of the things I like about Stansted airport is that motorised pavement thing, where you can stand on it and be propelled forward at about 5 mph. It’s even better if you walk on it yourself, as you get to the end of it in no time, smugly flashing past the people who decided to ignore it and walk along the side. It feels exciting too, as you’re walking but doing so at the speed of a jog. It’s a crap metaphor, I know, but that’s how I feel about what’s happened in the last week or so. To pursue it further, I’ve now probably been deposited in a heap at the end of the horizontal escalator thing, tangled up in a load of suitcases and wondering where gate 41 is.

With reference to my last entry, I had nothing to worry about at all for not going into work that Wednesday (23rd) because nobody received any news about the voluntary redundancies anyway. It all happened the next day. One by one, the three of us who had applied for a quote received a telephone call in the late afternoon followed by an email with the documents attached. I got my offer… and bloody hell, it was something I couldn’t refuse. So the next day I signed the form, scanned it and emailed it back. How handy it is to have a manager who works out of Bristol. Then I waited. We were supposed to hear for definite on Thursday, which was to be our last day there if our applications had been successful. The company could have still withdrawn their offer. We heard nothing at all, just rumours from other teams who were also going through the process. Great communication there. So it drifted on into Friday. It was entirely in keeping with the company’s reputation to not deliver on time.

Needless to say, it felt strange going into work knowing that it could be my last day there after so many years. Late morning, I got the email I wanted. Crikey. I had to sign another form, scan it and email it up to a bloke in Edinburgh. And then I was free to go… once I’d cleared my desk, which took over 2 hours! There were 8 years worth of junk secreted in various drawers. I even found a pair of trousers in there from the days when I cared enough to cycle to work early and have a shower before getting dressed in clothes suitable for the office (jeez, must have been a LONG time ago.) I was last to leave the office, which gave me a pang or two. I had one last look at the place, and then that was it. “Feck ’em all!” I thought, as I drove out of the site. I went to Tesco and soon cheered myself up by buying a new kettle.

So I’m now a man of leisure. I can have a lie-in tomorrow… not that I didn’t do that anyway on a work day. *smirk*

Edit: Monday 4th February
I think today has set the tone for the next 6 months to come. I got up at 11, watched daytime TV for a bit and then put the computer on. In no time at all I’ll be glued to the television all afternoon for “C4 at the Races”, pinning my hopes on a £3 yankee before I amble down to the off licence in my stained dressing gown.