So, here I am, parked at my desk this fine morning, and lo and behold, they haven’t made off with my computer yet. Hence, I’m penning down this little memento.
Over the weekend, this relentless ticking noise – Tic Toc, Tic Toc – was my not-so-gentle reminder that my days at Sikorsky Aircraft are numbered. I pondered jumping ship earlier, but honestly, when does one stumble into a gig as riveting as the Comanche program? It’s like the space shuttle’s drama, but on steroids – and yes, we’ve got ex-NASA folks here to vouch for it. Despite my boss being a thorn in my side, the crew here has been nothing short of stellar. It’s a mixed bag of feelings, really.
Feeling queasy this A.M. – is it the looming uncertainty of my tenure on Sikorsky turf, or perhaps it’s the dread of today’s performance review (as if it matters now… my ship’s sailed). Maybe it’s their peculiar farewell ritual here: a walk of shame escorted by armed guards, clutching your belongings like a scene out of a heist movie. Faced with the prospect of losing face before my comrades, I’m torn – do I stand my ground with grace, or simply strut out, head held high, proving I’m not just talk?
Either way, I’m all jittery, heart racing, and feeling utterly shell-shocked. As folks trickle in, it looks like the show’s about to kick off shortly.
Just hopped off the Zoom merry-go-round, and what’s the scoop? Feels like I’ve been flung back to that dreaded high school class, except now it’s dubbed “Professional Letdowns 101”. The gist? It seems my knack for weekend shenanigans paired with my lackluster weekday hustle has earned me the title of MVP in the corporate doldrums. And here I was, thinking weekends were reserved for Netflix marathons and breaking personal records on the bike, not for drafting up dreary reports.
Talk about déjà vu! It’s like reliving those high school days, except now, adult me is starring in “The Rumor Mill: Part Deux”. The narrative? I’m the underdog-turned-villain, allegedly skating through college on a cushion of easy A’s and snagging bike race victories by skirting the rules (insert dramatic score and a sarcastic slow clap). But, now that the cat’s out of the bag, it’s time to wear my slacker badge with pride. Here’s to kicking back, soaking in my liberation from all expectations, and basking in the glorious sound of not giving a hoot.
Boneshakerbike 
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