Transitions
Dec. 11th, 2010 07:07 pm"As you know, Bob, it is a goal of mine for some time to seek unemployment..."
I always enjoyed that one, first hearing my brother say it then reading the copy of the e-mail he'd sent his boss at Consolidated Edison, his second career. His first career, at least pertinent to this discourse, was the United States Navy, from which he retired after 25 years service. He didn't stay with Con Ed that long.
I've been hinting about something over the past few months, something rather anxiety raising, something transitional. Papers first filed in October, finalised recently, and as of 15:33 this afternoon I've achieved, for the first time since I turned 13, unemployment. Completed 30 years service at Hospital.
Now, before y'all get all excited and shouting and dancing, this is primarily a financial move. One which requires a seven day break in service, yes, actually unemployed, not on Paid Time Off. Then in seven more days, I'll start my New Job, which is a lot like my Old Job. So much like my Old Job in fact that it is even the same position number. In short, Retire/Rehire. Or (starting sometime fairly early next year) Double-Dipping. Which is also why, despite my telling you I'm currently unemployed and/or retired I've still not mentioned Hospital's Name.
Still. Thirty years. And even longer since I first started employment. High school, first round of college, military, second round of college, Hospital... I've been at least part-time employed through all of that. Feels a bit odd, thinking of myself as unemployed.
Truth be told, it is more accurate to say I'm self-employed as there will be a raft of things to work on here on teh Ranch, and there's always the Art as well. However, that's a condition which continues to exist, rather than being a transition.
In other news, which is the same news, Madame Queen Mary Kitteh, who came to live with us from Mother Mary's house five years ago when Mother Mary died, is also approaching a Transition. An old cat when she came to live with us, she's not at least 18 years old, possibly 20. This past week, she stopped eating, and she'd already been slowing down on that over the past month or so. Age is catching up with her, claiming her. She took herself outside this early evening for the first time in that week or so; we brought her back in or more correctly I did, picking her up where she'd stopped out by the drive.
We will miss her. And yet, her final years proved quite golden, here on teh Ranch.
I always enjoyed that one, first hearing my brother say it then reading the copy of the e-mail he'd sent his boss at Consolidated Edison, his second career. His first career, at least pertinent to this discourse, was the United States Navy, from which he retired after 25 years service. He didn't stay with Con Ed that long.
I've been hinting about something over the past few months, something rather anxiety raising, something transitional. Papers first filed in October, finalised recently, and as of 15:33 this afternoon I've achieved, for the first time since I turned 13, unemployment. Completed 30 years service at Hospital.
Now, before y'all get all excited and shouting and dancing, this is primarily a financial move. One which requires a seven day break in service, yes, actually unemployed, not on Paid Time Off. Then in seven more days, I'll start my New Job, which is a lot like my Old Job. So much like my Old Job in fact that it is even the same position number. In short, Retire/Rehire. Or (starting sometime fairly early next year) Double-Dipping. Which is also why, despite my telling you I'm currently unemployed and/or retired I've still not mentioned Hospital's Name.
Still. Thirty years. And even longer since I first started employment. High school, first round of college, military, second round of college, Hospital... I've been at least part-time employed through all of that. Feels a bit odd, thinking of myself as unemployed.
Truth be told, it is more accurate to say I'm self-employed as there will be a raft of things to work on here on teh Ranch, and there's always the Art as well. However, that's a condition which continues to exist, rather than being a transition.
In other news, which is the same news, Madame Queen Mary Kitteh, who came to live with us from Mother Mary's house five years ago when Mother Mary died, is also approaching a Transition. An old cat when she came to live with us, she's not at least 18 years old, possibly 20. This past week, she stopped eating, and she'd already been slowing down on that over the past month or so. Age is catching up with her, claiming her. She took herself outside this early evening for the first time in that week or so; we brought her back in or more correctly I did, picking her up where she'd stopped out by the drive.
We will miss her. And yet, her final years proved quite golden, here on teh Ranch.