I arrived at my desk this morning, dispirited at the thought of another day, but glad it was Friday. This is the first job I can recall where I counted the days of the week, longing for Friday. My voice mail light was lit: perhaps an outside call, perhaps not. Hmm, it was the Superior Professor, calling from a car dealership, saying she wanted to talk about my resignation letter.
It turns out an agreed-upon resignation date *would* be to everyone’s advantage, after all. And, surprise of surprises, she understood that my motives, to give her and the Subordinate Professor an opportunity to figure out how best to proceed, were in good faith. And that would mean a cessation of hostilities, no more corrective/punitive action . . . .
I couldn’t believe it. I found myself sitting at my desk after the call ended, sweat pouring down my back, a sense of relief like a weight being lifted from my chest.
No mention of it the rest of the day, when the car appointment was over: we just worked.
The Subordinate Professor got her knickers in a twist about a proposed series of events that were first discussed in July but had not yet been scheduled. As it happens, the letters inviting participation in the events just went out this week — three months after they were discussed. And as usual, three people were assigned different tasks but not told who was doing what and what everyone’s role was. I visited the other two people and in less that half an hour, we knew where we were and what the plan was.
I won’t miss *any* of this.