Still here.

That guy Stan, who was with Mannie and Angelata (poor man, *giggle*) he told a joke about a white shoe brigade developer, I shall call Elron Hubbard, and it was supposed to be true. That Elron Hubbard who had an island resort woke one morning after a particularly furious telling off of his kitchen staff, to find "Elron Hubbard is a fuckwit" written on the side of his luxury yacht. In his fury he first had it scrubbed off, then sacked all the kitchen staff.
Next morning?
"Elron Hubbard is still a fuckwit, and I am still here."

Heh.

It's over.

It was our last day today.
A nice day.
Bye then. Bugsplat Tourist Bureau.
Bye.

Almost out of work.

Tomorrow's my last day.

My "Work Experience Boy" (self-described) or "Sweetheart" (as desribed by me to others, when he is well out of earshot) or "Slave" (as described by me just as he's ~almost~ out of earshot, to his faux indignation) rang me yesterday, the darling, and we are having One Last Day Together tomorrow in which he will once again Be In Charge During Lunch.
I shall lunch with my husband across the road at Castenada's where Work Experience Boy can call me if something (or someone) goes Horibly Wrong.
Thus ends the Overly Dramatic Capitalisation. Relax.

Wednesday and Thursday were pretty horrible. Training my replacement. It was far too rushed. Two days is not long enough for a proper handover. A week is about right. I felt cheated too - because the reason I gave them eight weeks notice was to avoid this, and to make sure there would be time for a proper handover. I guess I had to once again learn the lesson that despite me making the sensible thing possible, I can't make the Board of the Bugasplat Tourist Bureau see sense. It seems so sad and stupid and unnecessary, but there it is.

Another challenging part of training her was the shock of realising just how blatantly unfair it was that my lovely husband was not given the job. Without any disrespect to my replacement, and recognising that she's got a very nice way with customers, it became obvious that she just could not have beaten Gray in a fair contest. About lunchtime of the second day of her training I realised that she's never actually used email before.
That was quite a shock. Again, not her problem, and she's actually a very good get for the Bureau with her nice manner etc. for that low rate of pay - but I don't believe she was the best applicant. Me darlin' was.

Today one of the board members came in for some training and after some intial annoyance (no notice, it's my second last day, I do actually have things to do here - files to get in order, a million instructions/details to record before I walk out the door etc. etc. etc.) it was actually rather nice. He's a sweetie. Runs the Bugsplat Worker's Club. It was a good thing to do.

And I was glad he was there for the horror of Ms Ant's return and her horrible racist remark and her general infuriating nastiness and free-lance belligerence.

Tomorrow I must, must, must;
~ finish that last tiny bit of filing left
~ sweep the floor
~ call the Indigenous Elder and warn him of Ms Ant's dreadful plans
~ copy all my precious documentation about the artefacts in case Ms Ant destroys it
~ make Work Experience Boy a certificate and write the lad a reference

Sometime in there I have a lunch to go to and then, in the evening, there's talk of a dinner date (except Thea, Just Jo & all that lot will go) with 'the girls'.

I'm less scared about not having time out without a job.
Things are going okay for me.

Trouble.
(Almost out of work.)

and, oh, what an awful day it was

well, that was just horrible.
Three days to go.
One day of handover left.
Which is just ridiculous.
I gave them EIGHT WEEKS notice so that there would be time for a decent handover. Two days is not long enough.
But it's all they're getting out of me.

Four days left.

Today is the first of my last four days. All in a row. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday and then.. I'm done there. I feel very strange.

Four more.

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday.
Then I'm Trouble out of work.

I don't know how I feel about that.

Unfuckingbelievable.

Gray didn't get it.
I'm shocked.
Who got it?
I shall see, no doubt.
Perhaps it's Jesus risen from the dead?
That would make sense.
I'd give the job to Jesus over Gray.
No question.
But I don't think Jesus is applying for a $13.27/hour part time job in Bugsplat, do you?

Last days chez bureau.

Last days chez Bugsplat Bureau... and I am feeling pretty sad about it.

When we took our holiday earlier this year (which is when the really crazy stuff happenned - when we weren't there to stop it) I pretty much packed up work, and left... and didn't see the light of day until we were back here three weeks later. I have some vague notions about the place but I'm scared of their father still and I'm not what anybody over there expects ever but more than those reasons everyone else in Polly really, really wanted the time to be there even if it was to argue with their mother like Thea did far too much of according to just Jo but thea says it was necessary and at least they are talking again. And just jo says well, if by TALKING you mean SCREAMING then I guess... but I digress. They can talk about this at tricks.

And I was there a little, tiny bit. Calypso brushing mum's hair. Sandy, my friend. Just a few seconds here and there and then we were back here and I was straight back to work at the Bugsplat Tourist Bureau again. Trying to solve the problems that had arisen while I was away. It wasn't much of a holiday for me.

I've been taking a holiday of sorts at work lately - just doing little tasks, no big projects. I've been photocopying brochures and sticking them onto cardboard and cutting it to shape so that when a brochure runs out the New Future Bureau Manager will find a card and if they are smart enough to turn it over (should I write PTO on it?) they will find contact details etc. to order new ones. That's been fun. A lot more fun that dealing with Mr and Mrs Manky or their lickspittles.

(Gruesome says I must say thanks chimera, that's one kewl, kewl word, thanks for bringing it to my attention.)

Everytime there's a big change in our circumstances looming the existing power structure gets unstable and as always, totally impossible candidates (hey! like ME! like I WAS!!) offer themselves up and shuffle around and do dodgy deals (err.. guilty) with various factions of polly or loose affilliations of common interests. It's unsettling. I realise now. Sitting here in power. To those in power.

Strange bedfellows. I mean, who would ever have predicted that I would manage to win the support of the ultra-vegan wing of Hinchinbrook? I LOVE MEAT! It is probably my favourite food! And my best friend, my second in command, IS CALLED SAUSAGE! Anyway, there were reasons, not currently strategic for me to recall.

And when we went travelling - Angelata came out, Francesca too, Molly, lots of Hinchinbrook Chicks. Then it all changed again when we rolled into town. And when I got a job again. Calypso and I work well together. I wonder what she wants to do.

Cherry on top.

Work was okay today and now it's time for telly and ice cream.
I feel okay today too.
Trouble.

Update: Bill was good. (It's a TV show. Mannie watches it. It's all right.)
Gray is trying on clothes for his interview for MY JOB tomorrow.
That feels a bit weird.
But not terrible.
Nothing that can't be fixed by a chocolate cookie ice cream.
It just feels strange.

Lots of them.

My "otherworld" was for twenty years a ghastly, dark dungeon - home to a disgusting pervert claiming to be the ghost of the German poet Schiller, a great big cat with very sharp claws and lots of them (my mama lion. ah, she was all right really) and us lot - dungeon brats. Two rival gangs. Yes, we had some good times. Especially the way we could knock each other flat and not really suffer any actual injury, as such. I miss that.

I know the place has been tidied up a bit. And we're allowed in the castle now. And Schiller is well behind bars. Calypso, that manky sop, visits him and reads aloud to him. Don't ask.\

Further to looming maws.

You know what really gets on my tits?
Those multiple systems who don't fight over front.

Front? No, no, really, please continue without me. I'm very busy with my fulfilling life of career, family, tertiary studies and romance over at my OtherWorld. Really, be my guest.

See, this is Something Never Heard at Polly HQ.

The day I moment I handed in my notice there was a distinctly audible sigh of anticipation in Castle. The clearing of throats, the shuffling of old references, the dusting off of folders. Brushing of hair. Lurid daydreams of reclaiming beauty and power.

And I'm no better. I'm reluctant to go home. It doesn't feel like home. It's not like Just Jo ever went easily either. Blue blanket and vase of flowers! They still have to lock the door, didn't they?

Maws, as I was saying, maws.

And I'm feeling less worried about it than I have been.

I don't know how much of this life I'll get, without the job to give me precedence over everyone else, but maybe I'll find more work, somewhere else. I'm interested in statistics now. Also, I think I want to study book keeping. It's really not ~that~ hard and yet, in a town like this one, almost everyone HATES it and would rather MILK COWS than look at a couple of columns of ingoings and outgoings and try to make them all end up at zero, so maybe there's a niche for me. There are only a few people who will even do it and some of them charge $25 an hour, and grumble because they can get $40 an hour in The City.

I want life. I want time out. I know I'm a bit deaf and I lack empathy and I'm clumsy and I'm really a boy - but I don't care. I don't care a bit. I just want to be here. I like it here.

Unemployment rushing towards me with a gaping maw.

No, I don't know what a maw is. I was going for 'gaping jaws' then thought 'a gaping maw' sounded better. Did I make it up?
I saw a zombie movie by my favourite Zombie Movie Guy George Remera or something.
God he is good.
I really like zombie movies.
Thea and Just Jo and other Castle types prattle on about metaphors. And that's fine, but sometimes, I just like to see them eat brains. And we were ALL satisfied.
I do tend to side with the zombies though.

Weary.

It was a long, weary afternoon. I feel terrible.