The last week of work is a strange affair. Time assigned for finishing off work, writing that “What’s wrong with the company and Here’s How To Fix It” document inevitably vanishes amidst joking with friends, telling people how you REALLY feel about other people (behind their backs of course), performing the inevitable countdown performed by all men previously thought condemned but who’ve now been reprieved (“This is the last Monday at 1:56pm I’ll ever have to worry about”). And that’s cool and all, but I’m already bored by it! I want out! All the actual and metaphorical debriefing that could be done has been done, and all I’m left with is an increasingly small amount of time left in which to get something done – or should I say something I actually want to do. Its only Monday afternoon and already my apathy has soared to new heights. Next thing you know I’ll be turning up to work in my dressing gown. Roll on next week…

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