So when the powers that be start telling everyone to prepare for 'redeployment', what the hell does that mean in this dot-bomb crazy world? It sounds like I am to be stuffed into a cannon with a laptop tucked under my arm and blasted off into the ether, and whichever random spot I land, I am to dust myself off and get back to work.
Whatever it means, the winds of change are a-blowing. It's not Cyclone Tracy kind of wind, but enough of a breeze to send your skirt billowing up around your legs, like Marilyn Monroe. I worry because I've no bloody idea what to do next. I've been a professional Cut and Paster for the past two years so I'm not exactly o'erbrimming with skills. There's that journalism degree but no experience (or interest) to accompany it. Who the bloody hell would employ me?
Me tired. Last year I took the Real Age test, and it said although I was 23, I was looking more like 30. But after almost a year of reforming rotten habits, it tells me I now have a real age of 16.8! I am just one big beacon of good health. Maybe I can put that on my CV.