I've started this sentence three times. It's a tricky one. I'm trying to find a subtle, nice way of saying, "I'm fucking glad to be leaving my job." Hmm, I guess that will do. It is difficult though; whilst there are always some people I like more than others, generally I get on with people really well and have almost always enjoyed the vast majority of any job I've had. With this one - honestly - I never really clicked.
The good news is I've found somewhere to move to where the people seem friendly, the work seems interesting and relevant, and where I don't have to work with someone whose personal motto is borrowed from Machiavelli. (More about this particular character, no doubt, in future Plogs.)
It's been a bumpy ride, to put it mildly. There have been difficult colleagues and challenging stakeholders*. Still, this was a situation I had fixed - admittedly by handing my notice in. Anyway, this was my leaving lunch with a handpicked crew of people I got on with OK. It was actually really nice. We had a laugh, and at the end of the meal my manager (actually a decent guy) made a short speech, and handed me a card, saying there were some book tokens within and he hoped I'd get something to remember them all by.
I was touched by the gesture and went to Krispy Kreme and to Waitrose and bought £30 of cakes for them all.
When I got home, I opened the Waterstones giftcard, and read the message my manager had written. The leaving card had been round the department of about 70 people, many of whom had signed with nice messages. My manager had written on the little card that came with the giftcard, "Laura, good luck for the future, and I hope you will buy something to cherish and remember us by. From your friends and colleagues."
I noticed there was a receipt in with the giftcard indicating the amount on the card - the only way to find out how many cherishable books I could purchase. How sweet of them, and how nice that these 70 friends and colleagues had a whip-round. The total value of the giftcard?
£12.
I think I was right. I think it is time to move on. At least I've chosen the book I want to buy, to remember them:
* This is business speak for "tosser bastards".
2 comments:
Twelve fucking English pounds? HUH? And this isn't some small office in a backwater with 10 people in, this is a bloody big London establishment! That's a total insult, that's like signging "Fuck Off" in the card.
I'd send it back to them. No message, nothing...just that in an envelope.
Can I borrow that book when you're done with it please?
Nice Kate x
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