well, that was an eventful week.
A two-day visit to the East Midlands wrapped up with a meeting with my favourite shaven-headed bully-boy, who asked if I was still 'minded to leave'. I said yes. He responded with an exit package offer, available now. I grabbed it. That was Thursday afternoon. On Friday morning I typed an email accepting the offer on my blackberry. As 'A Fistful of Dollars' came on the pod, I hit 'send'. Bingo. As of Monday 22 November, I have seven more days of paid work. Then I leave with a cheque and a strange feeling of delirium.
This does feel strange. Earlier today, I was ecstatic and terrified in equal measure. Right now, I'm more balanced and feeling a lot calmer, but flatter, about the whole thing. On one hand, I have got what I want - my intolerable and intolerant workplace has paid me to leave. On the other, I'm not ready - I'm leaving six months before I wanted to be, and before I'm prepared in any way for the next step. On the gripping hand, this is as good a time as any. I've always needed a crisis to kick me into action, and this is one hell of a kick.
Today, I went into town, paid a repeat visit to Frederick's for lunch, then went onto Artisan Roast, where I had another coffee in a fabulous atmosphere of roasting coffee and warm air. It's one of those places which attracts the dreadlocked cool Forest Cafe-type folk, but I got the contact info I needed, and will set up a meeting to talk training and supply.
I have so much to learn. But it's all do-able; it's a project, and I'll project-manage myself ruthlessly.
I am stunned that I'm leaving work in seven days. And utterly, utterly delighted.
