One full day left until I’m officially unemployed. Three nights on the trot I have woken up in a blind panic after bizarre dreams related to money, a sign I’m a bit stressed about what the future holds? You betcha. Monday nights dream was about a cashpoint that I broke and which then spewed out about 100 bank cards at me, none of which were my own. Having recently seen my financial adviser and opened all sorts of accounts I suppose this is linked to that but it woke me up at 02:00 and left me unable to get back to sleep until gone 05:30. Last night it was a dream that I tripped over outside work and smashed all my teeth out causing a bloody mess (literally). I know dreaming about your teeth falling out is supposed to be about money but getting them smashed out? Scary thoughts. Last night I made it through til 04:00 before sitting bolt upright in bed with a look of panic on my dial.
As the day gets closer I’m starting to have doubts about whether I have done the right thing. I know I’ve done the scary thing but will it prove to be the right decision? Only time will tell. I’m the sort of person who doesn’t normally take leaps like this, I’m normally quite happy to pootle along without making big scary decisions. I only left my last job because Marmaloid was leaving too and it seemed quite poetic to stick two sets of fingers up at our knobhead of a boss and skip off into the sunset together. If I hadn’t become so close to her, if she’d just been another work colleague rather than my best friend I would have stayed there, in fact I would probably still be there now tearing my hair out at the ineptitude.
It won’t feel real until 4th January when everyone goes back to work and I make the difficult commute from my bed to my desk (one step) to do some writing before taking a Jeremy Kyle break. I’m looking forward to being able to work in my pyjamas, to be flexible with my working hours and to not having to leave the house if the weather is cack but also I’m going to miss the banter of my office and the people who started as colleagues but became good friends. The atmosphere in the office is a little strange, people keep making pouty sad faces at me and asking me how it feels as if I’ve just found out I’m about to lose a limb or wake up dead. I wanted to try and avoid the ‘this is the last time…’ cliche but I’ve been announcing them left, right and centre.
“This is my last Monday morning”
“This is my last Thursday afternoon skive while everyone is in the Manager’s meeting”
“This is the last time I can say ‘see you tomorrow’ and actually be seeing you tomorrow”
“This is my last lunchtime sat in the staffroom with the sleeping man who wore pyjamas, slippers and a dressing gown yesterday”
I’m dreading the fact that I might cry when I’m subjected to the traditional leaving speech, I’ve been saying for ages that I won’t shed a tear but part of me thinks I’ll break down like a motherfricking baby. When I started this job I swore blind I was only staying a year yet here I am four years later a totally different woman, physically and mentally. Emotionally I’m still the girl who cries herself to sleep at the thought of leaving people and would quite like to stop time whenever it comes to saying goodbye. I wish I could slope off without having to go through the indignity of snotting all over my colleagues as we reminisce about the past four years of me making a tit of myself on a regular basis.
I bet a tenner right here and now that someone will reference me running my colleague over either in my card or in my leaving speech.
It feels like the right decision deep down but more than anything I’m shitting myself that I’m about to waste a golden opportunity.