The Last Shit Show

Midday. I have everything finished, completed work, procedures, work timeline summary, I’s dotted and t’s crossed. I hand it all over. Boris had taken her time to really take in everything that needed to be done. She asked me a lot of questions.

1pm. We ate noodles with fish and prawns for lunch. (I recommend it to anyone to have a boyfriend who can cook)

The whole day was thrown out by Boris wanting to check everything more thoroughly than normal and ask questions. Questions, lots of questions. (What the religious types hate) So, everything seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. All dragged out for the duration.

All day I was waiting for The Big Poo to authorise my leave. Well, I couldn’t exactly go on leave if he hasn’t authorised it. I sent him a cheeky email saying as such.

The Big Poo hadn’t signed off anything either, apparently, he was in Sydney. (How many times have I walked the streets of that city in outfits consisting of barely enough [usually stretch] material to make a bandana? Ah, good times) When I say signed off, it’s just an acknowledgement email of work handed over. 'Two sets of eyes,' is his motto.

Then the issues started coming in. First issue, from the Midget. I’ve checked HR’s running sheet and these… blah, blah, blah? Oh, fuck off [real name!] 

Still no authorised leave.

Second issue. Perth. My paperwork isn’t right. My mistake, I didn’t see the second sheet in the PDF. Oops. I thought I was checking those religiously. (What is that? In a toga sucking off a disciple?) I fixed that one. I wrote an apology email.  (Did I mean it? Ha! Chuckle)

Still no authorised leave.

Third issue. Phone goes. Someone who clearly knows me, whose name I didn’t catch. Suddenly they were Yap, Yap, Yap in my ear. “How are you mate?” Yap, yap, yap.

“When did Fish Face send my expense claim?” 

“Was that the early September claim?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, it missed the cutoff." I only knew this because someone weirdly asked me about it being from early September and who they should ask about it, like it had something to do with me. I must stop being so nice to everyone. (Ha, ha, and if you believe that, I have a bridge to sell you)

No, seriously, I’m universally liked. I wouldn’t, actually, say that if it didn’t bamboozle my brain? So funny, 'the things he says', apparently. Seriously, that is true of anyone, if it is true of me. You people clearly don’t get out enough. (Funny, the only people who don’t think this is HR, incompetent bunch of slags)

Whoever it was on the other end of the phone, needed the expense claim for their emergency meningocele vaccination, or cancer treatment, or whatever, of course they did. 

They will call Fish Face themselves. I end the call thinking, why didn't you just do that in the first place? Clearly, they'd dealt with Fish Face before and they were gathering ammunition. Fish Face is like an eel, a Teflon eel, she will slither out of any situation.

Still no authorised leave.

Sam took the dogs for a walk.

I did some work that Boris would have to do while I was away waiting for The Big Poo.

Fourth issue. The Midget emails about the first issue. She wants it investigated and a fix worked out. She wants someone to get back to her. Tell someone who cares was the response in my head. I chuckled to myself, how I ache to actually send that response to her. (clearly I need time off, was my next thought) The Midget recently got a promotion to Chief Cocksucker and she has been sickeningly gung ho ever since.

Where is my leave authorisation so I can sign out and leave these bastards to it. COME ON!

There was another issue from Perth, blah, blah blah… whining like only Perth can…

Then finally, Yay! The Big Poo sends acknowledgment email. "Good work."

Then I got the email for which I’d been waiting. Sorry Christian, I’m in Sydney, in meetings. Leave authorised. Have a great holiday.

I closed the final email from Perth without finishing reading the rest of it. Seriously, don’t care.

And I signed out immediately.

I hate making mistakes, it makes me feel incompetent, or as Uncle Roger would say, “Weak, it makes me feel weak.” Admittedly, I only made one mistake and it really was neither here nor there in the greater scheme of things, still...

I was annihilated by the anxiety, I guess, and the issues bang, bang, bang, that just kept coming and by that stage I just wanted to lie on the couch very still and quiet, which I kind of did, with my trusty bulldog, Brun-y-Boo. (I don’t seriously call him that)

Does it feel like I am at the beginning of an 8 week break? No, not really, not yet. I guess it will sink in soon enough. Pretty soon, I won’t want to go back, I know that. Could I resign? It seems so ‘other person’ to be even saying that. It just doesn’t seem like it is about me. But...

Anyway, this is the first day of a long break. Enjoy it, savour it, don’t miss a moment of it, because you know what will happen in no time at all?

This morning, I signed in to work early and set up my out of office email. I remembered it in the dark in bed last night, just after we turned the light out. I told Sam. He said go to sleep.

Then I tried to cancel my work phone redirect to my mobile phone but the app I use for that comes back with ‘This site can’t be reached.’ So, I log off again. 

Damn it! 

But what can you do?

It wasn’t until Sam got up at 7am and I told him about the phone redirection issue that he said, “You have to cancel the redirect, the phone calls will drive you nuts over 8 weeks.”

Of course, he is right.

So, here I am, having sent an email to the Global Service Desk, waiting for the cheery as apple pie American voice to call me back to fix this redirect problem.

8am. The Global Help Desk emails. Issue sorted. It has been an honour to solve this issue for you. 

I mean seriously? An honour? Always such sickeningly sweetness and light.

But, they had it sorted without me having to speak to them, you have to love that.