Teenage dreams

I feel like a teenager again. That’s not to say that I have an overwhelming desire to drink vodka in the park, wear a hoodie or frighten old ladies on a bus but my emotions are all over the place.

 Being a teenager was hideous the first time round so I’d rather not go through it again. Us adults are supposed to be able to manage our emotions with a little more efficiency than when we were younger (people that go Jeremy Kyle don’t count. Come to think of it, Jeremy Kyle doesn’t count) but I’d really like to get off this particular roller coaster and it’s all because of my work situation.

 I’m a grafter. I’ve only ever left jobs when I’ve had something better to go to. I’m rubbish at being ill and can’t remember the last time I took sick leave. I’ve never been unemployed and I’ve never claimed benefit so this being made redundant thing is way out of my sphere of knowledge. I have to deal with stuff called consultation and business case and I’ve got an appointment to speak to a nice lady in HR.

 Today I’m feeling depressed because the letter to all schools and head teachers has gone out telling them the ugly truth about the future of my programme. And that I’m ‘leaving.’ It would be a little harsh to say that I’m being ‘deleted’ which is what I’ve actually been told. Deleted. This is what the cybermen do to humans isn’t it? The letter didn’t look anything like the one I wrote. It was far more business like and less soppy. As it should be. Stiff upper lips and all that, what?

 At times the prospect of freefalling without a job is so heady that I can’t help but get caught up in the excitement and the thrill of an as yet unformed future.

 A few minutes later I’m in a meeting where I have to tell everyone that I’m being deleted leaving. Some people are sympathetic and ask what I’ll be doing next (‘see you down at Jobcentre plus ha ha’) and the occasional person says something supportive like, ‘well we’d better hurry up and get that done before you go!’ Depressing.

 Then I think about the huge pay rises that council chief executives all over the country are getting and I’m so angry that it physically hurts.

 Unfortunately, today I have been mostly grumpy. I even grouched at Mr. Citizen R over my muesli this morning (luckily he was very understanding). I have a meeting this afternoon where I’ll have to break the news to another bunch of people. Miserable.

 Guess how I’m feeling for the rest of week. No go on, it’s a game.

 Today: sending that letter and wondering if anyone will send me a kindly e-mail.

Weds: working with a new teacher at her school.

Thurs: attending a managers’ forum at work.

Fri: meeting with a colleague who is also being made redundant.

Saturday: spa day with the girls.

 The prize for guessing correctly is a warm feeling of accomplishment. But don’t talk to me for the rest of today in case I yell, ‘That’s sooo unfair! God! I didn’t ask to be born. You just don’t understand! I hate you!’ and strop off to my room to watch Twilight.  

Quick update: we’ve been told that the heating in the office is broken and won’t be fixed until November and that we should ‘dress accordingly.’ This has not made my day any better.