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.)