Getting Out

This current role was a very bad decision – not just the workplace, but some of the people. Indeed, one of those who interviewed me has since spoken to one of my friends at a techie social event – after I’d left – about my progress and how I’m doing, and whether I’ll leave. In front of other colleagues from the same workplace.

He hasn’t spoken to me about these concerns at all.

I get that he was probably somewhat the worse for wear. There’s usually an excuse somewhere along the line. It doesn’t stop it from having been a totally cuntish thing to do, and it doesn’t stop me from wanting to punch him in the throat.

It’s a good sign that this particular workplace is about as toxic a place as it’s possible to be. They bleat on about being passionate about what you do, and about behaving with integrity, but they don’t do it themselves.

So it’s time to move on. Again.

I’m annoyed with myself, that my quality control has been so flawed. I had my reservations, and this current workplace has lived down to them. That wasn’t a foregone conclusion though – I tried to come in with an open mind, that the interview and paperwork process might’ve been an exception rather than the accepted route. Being stabbed in the back by a colleague is a pretty new experience for me, and not one I intend to repeat any time soon.

Thankfully it’s only been three weeks. This workplace will never show up on my CV, it’ll never be called for a reference. And that’s good, because I don’t want to be associated with this bunch of cunts in any way at all.

Onwards and upwards, my friends. Onwards and upwards.