[Note: This also is an old post that was sat around in draft. I must have written it prior to leaving my old job in February 2011, but it says last edited in September of that year.

Anyway, I didn’t publish this at the time because it didn’t seem fair to give my thoughts on a place I’d just left, and it was probably bad form to post personal emails (even highly edited ones) I’d exchanged with a colleague.

Several years have passed and enough water has gone under the bridge that I think it serves OK as an honest and slightly humorous reflection on how I felt at the time I left. I post it with apologies both to the colleague in question, and to the brilliant team of people I used to work with: this reflection does not apply to them.]


 

“I’ve really had it with my dog,” said the first guy to his neighbor. “He’ll chase anyone on a bicycle”

“Hmmm, that is a problem,” said the neighbor. “What are you thinking of doing about it?”

“Guess the only answer is to confiscate his bike!”

Aaah, cyclist humour. How very drole.

It’s probably become clear that I’m leaving my job and I had a vagely amusing email exchange with a cyclist colleague of mine the other day that’s worth saving – highly edited to avoid saying too much, but you’ll get the idea:

Colleague:

…sorry that you’ve leaving us but all the best in your new job…

Me:

Thanks, I need to find the new job first!

Colleague:

I’m surprised…you’d never sell your current bike before buying a new one 😉

Me:

If it was a piece of junk hanging around in the garage and making me dream of a shiny new drop-bar’ed racer? I think I’d take it to the tip and save up for something new.

The alternative being to invest in some new parts, but that’d probably end up costing more – in the short term at least.

How far would you like to stretch this metaphor?

Colleague:

Yeah, I see where you’re going with this. Sometimes the old bike just takes up valuable space in the hall, is a trip hazard, gets oil on your trousers whenever you try to brush past it, often cutting you with its sharp rusty edges. You try to ignore it for too long, but it gets in the way of buying a new bike and the very sight of it is a call to action. So the tip it is then…

Happy shopping for the dream racer!

Me:

Hehe. Yup, that’s about it. It’s sad – it served me well for many years. Perhaps someone else with more patience than I can make it roadworthy again and get good use from it, but as for me, I need something new.

sorry that you’ve leaving us but all the best in your new job…sorry that you’ve leaving us but all the best in your new job…