Training for new gig.
Still weirdly missing aspects of old gig.
When I run out of yerba mate, I can’t walk down the hall and ask Grumpy Cat if she has more in her well-stocked desk drawer. I can’t visit Daisy to ponder how we can start a side business and work for ourselves. Since I don’t go anywhere all day, I, umm, don’t go anywhere all day, so that’s kind of weird; it’s good, but it’s also weird.
In positive news, I work 8 hours, give or take a few minutes, and that’s it. I am not on call. I get to eat lunch every day. I work 5 days. No one expects me to check emails on my days off. That is pretty dang awesome after about a decade and a half of being on call, on demand, non stop, even on vacay.
Such ridiculousness I endured…and for what? No fanfare on my last day. I kept thinking someone might bring by flowers or something…and nothing. No one walked me out the door. No one waved farewell. The door locked behind me and that was that.