OK, so I had just about worn out the role at work, basically buggering about with Smart phones and the like. So I thought to myself....'If I know things are getting a bit thin work wise, then how long before the decision makers and beancounters know that?.
I've done nearly 17 years there but Plan A is to remain there until I'm 60 (yes, just 10 fucking short years away) ...well 10 and a bit...and then if The Company, and more importantly The Government allow me I'd rather like to retire. I do seem to be stuck in the generation that will never be allowed to retire (another subject for another day) or for whom retirement will be seen as a scourge as loads of saddo's continue to work past 65/67/69 (..pick an age..any age) and society makes it a norm to work until you die rather than enjoy a few years of lay ins and golf or whatever.
(Thats enough ranting...Ed)
So, when SirYesSir sent out the email saying that a colleague was moving on, I decided to grab the bull by the horns. I asked him into a vacant office and for the first time in my life I said 'Gissa job'...well more or less... 'more like 'Gissdat job'.
And he looked at me with snipers eyes, deep into the soul, smiled and said OK.
Now, call me old fashioned but this was very daring for me, someone from a generation where if you wanted a job you waited for it to be advertised then applied for it. Very quaint and honourable. Today's 'go getter' attitude is very different. Push, cajole, annoy, ask, demand is the new way. I expected of course to have a month to transition into the role, to hand off my old stuff and to gently bed in to the new. I asked on the 23rd December.........
......and I started on the 4th January. Lumped straight into meetings with humourless German directors, vacuous wannabees, Anne Widdecombe-like spinsters, puppy dog careerists and utter arseholes. There has to be someone nice coming along.
Feet and floor barely know each other. Arse barely made contact with any seat for more than 15 minutes.
I asked............and I certainly got.
Later GJ