in which there are 43 days and a fair bit of whinging

Helmet

I wish I had something interesting to say lately, but the truth is that these last few weeks have been heavy on drudgery and low on joy. Billy and I have been working here on our own- two out of the five planned- for team members- for weeks now. We are carefully kind to each other, and commiserate near- daily. We miss our families, our homes, our privacy. We miss doing the job of a single individual vs. the job of 2.5 human beings. And while we know it's no one's fault- administrivia for the win- we feel deeply, bitterly ripped off.

I'm not a big fan of the idea of what's "fair"— the concept of "fairness" carrying with it huge assumptions of entitlement- but damnit, I do feel as though we should have had a somewhat easier home stretch. I certainly wanted one, and in my bitter moments I do feel that we earned it. It hasn't been easy. We've stayed the distance, with minimal bitching. We've been upbeat and positive. We've worked our asses off. We haven't broken any major rules, or told off any of the many people who deserve it, or said to hell with all of this, and gone home (although we do fantasize about that occasionally).

This would be better, easier, if I had a name or a face upon which I could heap blame; simply hating The Paperwork isn't very gratifying at all.

I'd like to start training my replacement and focusing on my transition, please. I'd like a few more bodies so I can accomplish some end- of- tour goals, or really, focus on any one thing for more than a minute. I'd like things to be business as usual, which would actually be unusual for this apparently very unlucky mission, and I'd like to start that before my countdown gets into the 30s, but I think I'm out of luck on that one.

For now, I'm just biding my time, and that's exactly what it feels like; waiting. I run, I read Koyczan and think of Sam, I read Kingsolver and think of my backyard. I am ready to be done with this; most especially to be done with the sheer excess of these last few weeks, done with ridiculously low manning and piss- poor Machiavelli imitations out of the politicos, done with meetings as a form of discipline and the neverending bullshit handshaking.

Oh, it's the perfect way to end my career in government work, really. I absolutely must make a go of it outside that world; my last memories of his will be too negative to consider coming back.

  One thought on “in which there are 43 days and a fair bit of whinging

  1. kate
    March 17, 2009 at 9:27 am

    Oh, sweetie! I’m so sorry. You can whine, or wing, all you want. I can’t imagine how much it sucks. imagine what the politico’s would do if they cd really hold in their head half a minute that there are human beings involved. I for one am very grateful to you and your tiny team for what you are doing there and am grateful that someone braver and nobler than me i available to do your mission.
    Sheep and wool coming soon. maybe even sooner than you think:)

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