Into The Gaping Maw of Doom Tomorrow
→[More:] I'm driving down to Sussex tomorrow to hang with the Luddites. The ex-director came in today and bought us all lunch. While we were in the pub, the one manager guy (who isn't really my boss anymore) cornered me and gave me the whole "do you want to know why you're REALLY going to Chichester?" routine.
He seems to think that they're having me down to assess me/decide whether to keep me/etc (they use IT consultants, and may decide that they can do better without me... which is complete rubbish).
He was giving me all sorts of odd advice... essentially, "your personality sucks: pretend to be someone else... I don't want to lose you". Fair enough, since I'm one of the people who make him look good. The man can't even type an email, for fuck's sake.
Fuck it. I'm not sure I really care anymore. I'm starting to think that the best thing would be a golden handshake.