I’m between jobs.
No, not like *that*. For the past three months I’ve been ‘in transition’ – that’s business code for ‘doing two jobs at the same time’ – moving internally from one division to another. Today was my last day in the office before Christmas and also my last day in my ‘old’ job. When I come back in January I’ll be in my new role full-time.
So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu
It’s been something of a long goodbye. I had initial discussions about the new job in mid-August and after some to-ing and fro-ing on my part agreed to it in early September. I could probably have moved across at the start of this month but there didn’t seem much point doing it with barely three weeks of the year left. So January it is: new year, new job.
Consequently, the outcome of what has been a 4½-month process has felt like a distant blip on the horizon for ages, one easily ignored.
Not any more.
A small leap, and yet a big one
In physical terms, I’m not moving far – about 25 metres, to be precise. But mentally it’s a big leap.
I’ve worked in the same business and with many of the same people for over eight years. When I walked in on my first day in June 2005, Crazy Frog had the number one single in the UK, London was still three weeks away from being awarded the 2012 Olympics, Twitter had not been born yet and a certain fledgling video-sharing service was barely three months old. Whatever happened to YouTube, eh?
I’ve moved around several times over the years – this will be my ninth job in my fifth company – but I’ve never been a particularly status-driven individual. Indeed my career trajectory has resembled that of a punt on a river being steered by a blindfolded novice who has enjoyed one too many alcoholic beverages: occasional bursts of forward motion punctuated by random, zigzagging meanderings and periods of going round in circles. Somehow I’ve managed to progress into a fairly senior role, but looking back I’m a little hazy as to how that actually occurred.
But now it’s time for one of those occasional bursts of motion. I’ve been gradually saying goodbye to people over the past few days, which has made my impending departure feel tangible. This morning we had our usual last-Friday-of-the-month communal coffee and cake. I was presented with a cartoon caricature of myself in Arsenal strip. (Oh, if only I was really that slim and skilful …) I was genuinely touched.
We’ll gloss over my stumbling hash of a farewell speech, though. As always when called upon to speak publicly, I was too long, too incoherent and about as funny as having root canal. There’s a reason I’m a writer rather than an orator. Oh well.
Anyhow, I’m done. I’ve packed up my desk, leaving it tidy for pretty much the first time ever. I’ve said my goodbyes. And when I return in two weeks’ time, I need to remember to turn right rather than left after stepping out of the lift.
In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my Christmas break. Given the nature of the modern workplace, I suspect my honeymoon period will be considerably shorter than my long goodbye …