The Grass Soon Grows

My replacement started work last night, and I’ve been asked to help show him the ropes. Any feelings I had about being appreciated and irreplaceable have exploded. I did ask if I could leave tomorrow, on the last day of the month, but they’ve asked me to carry on until the end of next week, “thereby seeing out the terms of your notice period, and ensuring a smooth transition between yourself and the new operative which will minimize disruption to the rest of the workforce.” Twats.
I think I’ve agreed to come back to work in December as well, as they want to hire extras to deal with the Xmas rush, but can’t be bothered to train up anyone new. The money is good, and it’ll stop me panicking about being bankrupt, homeless and destitute by the end of the year.

I didn’t get the job at the pub, by the way. There were several experienced applicants made jobless by the recent recession, so they’ve hired one of those. Cassandra did call to tell me personally, which I admire her greatly for, and she asked if I’d like to be on their list for part-time cover staff in the future? I told her I’d think about it. It felt a bit like someone you’re in love with saying “I’m marrying someone else now, but maybe you’d like to come round occasionally and just kiss me?”

I popped over to see Ted and found him drunk in front of something called ‘To Buy Or Not To Buy.’ Beryl’s ‘few days away’ have now extended to ‘a holiday’ and I can’t help thinking he’s suffering. I think her idea is that the longer she stays away, the more she’ll be appreciated but I doubt he’ll live long enough to realize how much he’s missing her. Poor old Ted. I await further developments with interest. I can only see it going one of two ways – reconciliation or an ambulance.

RC 29-9-09