See you, Space Cowboy… / BWE

In which our Hero gets what he asked for and only six years late

Looks like Mrs Serin’s little boy is hitting the job market for the first time in a long time.

Since it’s almost universally the first question from the very very few I’ve told, I’m okay. I’ve got feet to land on and at least a life or three left. I’m angry, for my own sake and for my ur-brother, Hollywood, and our comrades who are likewise cut down with so little grace. It’s a bit of a whiplash from a few weeks ago, when we were told there were spots for us. It’s less of a whiplash from Friday when we were told the direction had changed.

The irritating part is that I don’t get the clean break I’ve always wanted. The information so far indicates they’ll be offering me (uniquely) a transition period, so that I can pass on my wit and wisdom and experience with another system. I’m still waiting to hear the final details.

But regardless of the terms they offer, I’m taking the notice as notice and looking for work elsewhere. I don’t mind making them pay for my job hunt, but I want to be out of there on my terms and not theirs.