I am reminded of the old Tommy Cooper joke where he asks the doctor how long he has to live. "Put it this way", says the Doctor, "I wouldn't put on an LP".
So it is with my working life. Just as I am getting my feet back under the desk, finding the lay of the land and have run it up the flagpole to see who salutes, I am told that I have been "re-prioritised". Now, in the Orwellian future, I am guessing that is either painful of life-limiting, but in the wonderful world of Starfleet it means that a group of people, some of whom one knows, and some of whom one has yet to encounter, sit on a conference call to make a "breakage call", which in layman's terms means they decide which customers they are happy to pi$$ off a bit so that the can pi$$ off another one a bit less. And I am the pawn in that pi$$ed offness transference process, in that I am now to spend two weeks on another new account ensuring some big stuff gets done while the incumbent trooper is in sunnier climes. The fact that the DPE commented earlier in the day that, as an observation, it did not look like me and my team were particularly busy, could be a contributing factor. In fact others have already asked the question "does this mean they don't like you?". The honest answer is that I don't think that that is the issue, however it is always good to retain a bit of paranoia just in case they really are talking about you.
So, tomorrow, I will be off to another office, without my tie (yay) but with a now-defunct train ticket for Thursday. I wonder if the train operator will refund it?
I will also miss my usual breakfast of organic porridge, smoothie, seeds and falafal sandwich. Oh well, I am sure someone in this city can sell me some food tomorrow.
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