Did I mention I'm leaving my job after 30 years? Only three more Mondays and I should be out. It's time to go. I'll take my pension and do other stuff before it's too late.
Work was something that I did today as if it would go on for another 30 years but already people are talking about a future that I won't be part of, even by next month.
I had a good day, even lunched with friends at the Labor Club. One of whom, let's call him Franko - a solid party comrade - is also taking a package. As we walked back to the office, we talked, influenced by the house red, about leaving inappropriate out of office messages on our phones and computers when we go, like "By the way, you the know the rumour that this organisation is elitist and privately despises you? It's quite true. But please leave a message if you must...If you are from Austrade or the Industry Department though, please hang up now", or, "Don't even think about leaving a message, I don't want to talk to you anyway - never have." Or more subtlely, "please do leave a message, a quite detailed one if you wish, I'll get back to you shortly" - in the last case with possibly an ever so feint snigger at the end, or "yeah right", soto voce after a slight pause.
For the computer perhaps "You again? That's it, I'm resigning." or "I'm out of the office having fun, possibly for quite a long time. I may get back to you, I may not, bite me." Or "I'm on another long lunch, wouldn't your time have been better spent that way rather than composing your latest dreary work message? No wonder we never invite you." 30 years of professional politeness does that to you.
We agreed my friend might be the subject to further disciplinary action if he did something like that because he isn't exactly the management's favourite person just at the moment, bless him. I am a union delegate so pretty much untouchable (in more ways than one these days). He has just escaped a nasty scrape with a warning. But decided to toss it in anyway - he has other things to do.
How was he to know it was a book launch and the book being launched wasn't a free copy? Who reads invitations anyway? They should have had a sign saying "please don't take one." And who doesn't shove a book down the back of their trousers and try to leave immediately when their carry bag is full? Trump had just been elected. Franko was upset - tired and emotional. And yes, he was wearing his official security pass on a union lanyon festooned with anti-Trump buttons. An oversight and poor fashion sense at worst.
I ventured even if he had left the department, the authorities would probably still have to publicly burn him in effigy as a warning to others, like they did in the Inquisition when they couldn't find the condemned. especially after he so recently skilfully navigated a conduct and ethics investigation into the alleged minor infraction outlined above.
They might for example put out a stern note on telephone and computer etiquette and professional standards - and we'd know who triggered that, wouldn't we, hmmm? Franko, already a minor legend of non-conformity, plans to be in Geneva by July on a fellowship and gone for good. I promised to send him copies of any official correspondence from the last Inquiry - or the next through other comrades who are hanging on - kindling for his fire-pit on Lake Geneva perhaps.
Back in the office most don't know I'm leaving for sure, and I haven't pulled the trigger on the offer yet, but clues abound and are starting to add up, making my meeting with staff this afternoon a little strained for the first time. One very leading question from a staff member hung heavy in the air - about future directions. I said I didn't expect any changes this month but there could be some next.
Tuesday there will be a big planning meeting about a future that is theirs, not mine. I feel some pangs, but not too many. It should be fun if my project team gets disbanded in the next business plan, to be unveiled at the planning day. I shall have to practice shrugs and worried or perplexed looks - better yet an enigmatic insouciant smile. It all must be a typo.
As long as you keep the oats up to an old warhorse like me, he'll be as right as rain. After so many campaigns, put me out to pasture I say, not for the first time. I probably still have some campaigns left in me, but not with this outfit.
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