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My resignation from work
Jul. 13th, 2007 11:10 pmMy apologies that I couldn’t update the blog more often recently – although once you’ve read what I’ve been doing over the last few weeks, I trust you will understand why.
Today, after four years, nine months and seven days, I have left my job!
Now, I can explain a little bit more about what has already happened.
Back in May, I was suspended for a “severe breach of security” – I had a link to my website on my BT Directory entry, which was locked (and had been since I got the password stuck over two years before it). This link was there initially when I first transitioned, so I could use this as a way of proving who I was on the phone (i.e. pre-therapy, when my voice was questioned, I could give them this, and ask them to click the link. It usually worked, too).
Now, of course, the above security breach would have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I’d complained about the team coach who brought the case against me!
That lasted just over a week, but on the day they came to hand me my investigation letter, I gave them a doctors line. My own docs were quite happy to sign me off for a bit, but not forever – I can see why. To be honest, the stress of thinking about going back to work was really getting to me. So, anyway, I remained signed off for June, and early July.
Now, the docs want me to go back to work. I don’t have a problem with working between now & surgery (I am one-fifth of a point above my BMI target at the moment – 30.2!), but I can’t work where I was.
I can’t fight any more!
Yes, normally I’d go in with a wedge of paper evidence, and try to clear my name.
For what?
So I can continue to struggle by on the breadline?
Did you know, even after all those years of service, that I was only about £10 a week or so better off against Statutory Sick Pay, Housing Benefit & Council Tax Benefit? No wonder I was forever broke, looking like I did.
So, I could fight, clear my name. Go back to a job that I was quite clearly “stuck” in, until the next managers rift. Go back to no more money. Go back to being over 400 miles away from the one that I love. I spent at least £10 a week in travel alone, just within the city.
A certain Caroline has been exceptionally wonderful to me over the last three and a half months, and has vowed to keep helping me. She said on her own journal “My priority at the moment is to help Suzy though her transition, surgery and recovery. I can't easily explain what I feel the need to do that as that would require too many eastern religious concepts to explain properly.” Basically she wants to help me, without further questioning. Maybe it’s some kind of subconscious form of payback for those I’ve helped in the past.
Last night, I broke down with a very sore combination – very upset, sharp chest pains, tummy cramps, and a headache. That’s not sustainable. I can’t carry on like that forever.
The search for a new job had already begun. It’s more than likely I will be working down south somewhere – north Hertfordshire, Cambridge city, south Cambridgeshire, west Essex somewhere.
I’m sat here at the moment in Royston, typing this. I know it’s Friday 13th, but already I am starting to feel the relief. The breeze from the wind, the trees and the trains, is enough to cool this room. It’s almost like a wind of change. It’s still sinking in. I’ve threatened to do it often enough. Now, I have.
Later in the evening, we went out to "celebrate" our weeks so far (no alcohol consumed... until we got home!)
Today, after four years, nine months and seven days, I have left my job!
Now, I can explain a little bit more about what has already happened.
Back in May, I was suspended for a “severe breach of security” – I had a link to my website on my BT Directory entry, which was locked (and had been since I got the password stuck over two years before it). This link was there initially when I first transitioned, so I could use this as a way of proving who I was on the phone (i.e. pre-therapy, when my voice was questioned, I could give them this, and ask them to click the link. It usually worked, too).
Now, of course, the above security breach would have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I’d complained about the team coach who brought the case against me!
That lasted just over a week, but on the day they came to hand me my investigation letter, I gave them a doctors line. My own docs were quite happy to sign me off for a bit, but not forever – I can see why. To be honest, the stress of thinking about going back to work was really getting to me. So, anyway, I remained signed off for June, and early July.
Now, the docs want me to go back to work. I don’t have a problem with working between now & surgery (I am one-fifth of a point above my BMI target at the moment – 30.2!), but I can’t work where I was.
I can’t fight any more!
Yes, normally I’d go in with a wedge of paper evidence, and try to clear my name.
For what?
So I can continue to struggle by on the breadline?
Did you know, even after all those years of service, that I was only about £10 a week or so better off against Statutory Sick Pay, Housing Benefit & Council Tax Benefit? No wonder I was forever broke, looking like I did.
So, I could fight, clear my name. Go back to a job that I was quite clearly “stuck” in, until the next managers rift. Go back to no more money. Go back to being over 400 miles away from the one that I love. I spent at least £10 a week in travel alone, just within the city.
A certain Caroline has been exceptionally wonderful to me over the last three and a half months, and has vowed to keep helping me. She said on her own journal “My priority at the moment is to help Suzy though her transition, surgery and recovery. I can't easily explain what I feel the need to do that as that would require too many eastern religious concepts to explain properly.” Basically she wants to help me, without further questioning. Maybe it’s some kind of subconscious form of payback for those I’ve helped in the past.
Last night, I broke down with a very sore combination – very upset, sharp chest pains, tummy cramps, and a headache. That’s not sustainable. I can’t carry on like that forever.
The search for a new job had already begun. It’s more than likely I will be working down south somewhere – north Hertfordshire, Cambridge city, south Cambridgeshire, west Essex somewhere.
I’m sat here at the moment in Royston, typing this. I know it’s Friday 13th, but already I am starting to feel the relief. The breeze from the wind, the trees and the trains, is enough to cool this room. It’s almost like a wind of change. It’s still sinking in. I’ve threatened to do it often enough. Now, I have.
Later in the evening, we went out to "celebrate" our weeks so far (no alcohol consumed... until we got home!)
