Derek @ Work needs a new strategic direction in order to remain relevant to the business. A Gap analysis has highlighted the following areas of concern:
The need for faster response times has prompted trialing the move of Derek @ Work to http://spaces.msn.com/members/dtcwee
It is a structured blogging engine that 'best-fits' our business needs. It uses existing sign-ins, has automated archiving, and allows reader feedback.
Hopefully, this move will position us favourably to leverage future enhancements, such as RSS feeds, with our strategic partner, Microsoft.
The rest of the website will remain as is. An interim transitional framework will be applied temporarily, while service delivery will continue using the old methodology as well as the new.
Thank you for your patience.
It's official, I'm a 'quit-stay'. It's such a joy to know that the state of my entire career can be encompassed by a trite little term. And now that I've been diagnosed, I can euphorically await the remedy. Kahloo kahlay. Frankincense and myrrh, stat.
But being a quit-stay is as much a choice for me as it is due to chance or fate. Every day I choose to go to work and then divorce myself from it. I could listen to the HR bunnies and seek transfers, training, or another job. But to what end? To do so would require more effort than cruising on low-batt quit-stay mode. (As anyone who's applied for a public sector position would confirm.) I choose to stay a quit-stay.
Strategically, staying makes sense. Although my salary is not spectacular, I am being paid very well for what I do, which seems to mainly consist of enduring restructures and micro-managers. Government positions have incredible pay security. So while I languish, my mortgage is being hacked away with little threat to my cashflow. With only a year to go, the Devil I Know is a reasonable chap I can make a temporary deal with.
I can also claim as an immediate benefit my gradual emotional separation from work. I used to want to feel part of a team, a family if you will. Unfortunately, I wandered into a few Tasmanian foster-care situations. I have excised fulfilment and dissatisfaction since then. I'm working on ambition and fear. When those two are gone, the fun starts. Once I am immune to reprimands or rewards, the healthy schism between work and life will be assured.
Another way of looking at it is that I have modelled myself after the service providers my workplace outsources to. I will suck this relationship dry, owing a duty only to my shareholder (guess who?) I will use their facilities, drink their coffee, and rummage through their folders. It's business, not personal. So how can pundits paint emotion-drained quit-stays in a different hue to the cold, deceptive, ultra-professional outsourcers they idolise? Ultra-professional, yeah. Ultra-professional at reaming y'all up the keester. At least I have enough morals to refrain from screwing over a new employer, in favour of exploiting an old one with whom I have a long history of denied opportunities and deteriorating environments.
Being a quit-stay suits my current situation, and I resent the patronising, over-simplified advice to change jobs. I don't feel guilty being a 'survivor'. Giving up attachment to my work has allowed me to focus on a greater agenda.
Not bad for a quit-stay.
I'm trying to define my passive-aggressive attitude to what may be the last year I work here. It's utilitarian in that I try to minimise effort, yet I don't want to ignore my humanist streak. (What humanist streak?) I guess I'd also like to explore not fearing vocational suicide, and facing bureaucratic hopelessness with my own brand of slack-tivism. Maybe I'm just looking for a nice way of saying I'm going to do bugger all and see how long I can get away with it.
The biggest challenges this month has been scheduling a killer Lion Dance season, visiting my script editor, advertising the vacant room, losing bids on xboxes, and trying to write the Philippines Banana-log so it won't offend Rhea; all of which would be impossible without the people at work being so entangled in their pockets of officiousness that they don't mess with what I'm doing.
I think I'm beginning to like it here again.