06 December, 2010

It seems I was very bad in a past life

Oh, god. Apparently this is the week of hell. For some reason, The Invertebrate has decided to make Ted's last week an epic of suffering and woe for everyone else.

Firstly, we still haven't gotten rid of La Mondaine. It was looking promising a couple of weeks ago, but then the timing just didn't work out right and The Invertebrate lost his nerve at the last minute and we're stuck with her until at least the end of the year. In celebration of this (apparently), The Invertebrate has called a team meeting for tomorrow morning. On the plus side: no Ted. On the down side: no agenda, La Mondaine, and another hour of my life I won't get back.

(It's not vitally important to me that every hour of my life be worth something, but I do get irritable when my time is wasted by meetings that aren't actually about anything).

On Thursday, there's the team Christmas lunch. Because it's Ted's last lunch with us, both my predecessor and the previous team leader are coming along as special guests, thereby ensuring life-threateningly toxic levels of rose-tinted nostalgia and self-congratulatory trips down Memory Lane when, in reality, all three of them deserve to be pursued down Beaten-With-Sticks-For-Gross-Stupidity Lane by a stampede of angry bulls.

Oh. Joy. Apparently La Mondaine will also be in attendance.

I'm still not quite sure how I'm going to deal with this. There probably isn't enough time to have my dentist fit me with a cyanide-filled false tooth, and I'm positive there won't enough time to have him fit one to each of the Good Old Days Gang.

And as if that wasn't enough... on Friday, we have our last meeting of the year with our counterparts at other organisations, and Ted has decided he'll wander along to this, too, so he can say his farewells to a bunch of people he's studiously avoided having anything to do with because he didn't feel he was paid enough for it. Following that, the Invertebrate has decided we'll also have a farewell afternoon tea for Ted. Now, I'm good at keeping things civil and professional, but I feel this is starting to ask just a little more of me than is reasonable.

In fact with La Mondaine's announcement that now she'll have to come in Friday, too, I'm sure it is. We're entering "cruel and unusual punishment" territory here. If I was a particularly paranoid turn of mind, I think I'd have good grounds for thinking this was an elaborate, divine plot directed at me as punishment for sins in a past life ... in which case I hope my past self really had fun.

(On the bright side, though, this will almost certainly put a crimp in Ted's unspoken plans to sneak away even earlier than his normal Friday afternoon skive.)

Yes, his departure is cause for celebration. I'm not disputing that. I understand the need to make sure he's really leaving. I even understand that it's important that he be seen to be leaving so that his sudden absence won't raise questions about shallow graves, suspiciously shiney gardening tools, and alibis.

But if this is drawn out any longer it's going to rival the seventeen final scenes from The Return of The King ... without the benefit of a fast-forward control.

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