Oh Freedom (Freedom) Freedom (Freedom) Freedom, oh FREEDOOOOOOM

After six years of a job that can only be described as hellbad, I wondered if my last day would be as bizarre, stupid and offensive as all the others.


Well, not quite, but they gave it a fair crack.


The day started innocuously enough. As I was not the only one leaving that day (impressive, with a total staff of 15, yes?)* we had a farewell breakfast, which may have been designed solely to make me get up early one last time, but the food was good. After ordering the most expensive breakfast available, and lots of coffee, I chatted to my colleagues about ice skating and lychees and it was generally pleasant.


My soon to be former boss made a nice little speech about how much my colleague and I would be missed, which was so generic that, around a week later, I cannot recall a single word of it.


I made a nice speech in return, which mostly focused on how awesome my former colleagues are, as this is true, and included the very small number of positive things I could possibly say about my former boss.


They gave me a little farewell gift, which was two bottles of red wine and a decanter, showing that at least they know something about me, and also showing that considering the obscene amount of profits they had made off my hard work, they were still willing to be cheap.


In case you think I'm being unnecessarily critical, they also invited me to the Christmas party after I resigned, and they uninvited me a few weeks later, because apparently its a really small restaurant and fitting an extra person at the table would be impossible.


Cheap.


Then it was back to the office, where the computers did not work for the next three hours. Since I had not been allowed near a client for four weeks and I had spent that time writing policy documents that no-one will ever read, I had absolutely nothing to do until they were fixed.


My colleagues took the opportunity to give me their own going away present. Yep, another two bottles of red wine. I need to throw a dinner party or two soon.


As a further act of hilarity, my colleagues also gave me John Howard's autobiography, which made me laugh very loudly, and a very nice bookmark with a fetching picture of Kristen Stewart as Bella Swan on the front.


Yes, I read a Twilight book once, but I spent almost the entire book yelling "WE ALL KNOW HE'S A VAMPIRE, WHY DO I HAVE TO READ THREE HUNDRED PAGES OF CRYPTIC LITTLE HINTS, AND PLEASE COULD SOMETHING HAPPEN SOON" and so forth.


I like the people I worked with, I really do. They are funny, and I miss them.


My former employer, with his usual subtlety and balance, insisted tha I actually read Howard's biography, as it would convince me that I would have voted for him if I "had half a brain".


Usually, I let such idiotic statements go through to the keeper, but as it was my last day, I took the opportunity to wholeheartedly agree that anyone with half a brain would have voted for John Howard, before noting that, since I have a whole brain, I voted for someone else.


This would have been an excellent "Oh snap" moment, except that I'm pretty sure that my former employer did not understand it.


Oh well.


With the computers finally working, I finished off the largely pointless task that I had been performing for the past four weeks straight, and then it was time for the much anticipated 'exit interview'.


I should point out at this stage that my employer had never conducted an exit interview before. This was a lucky break for everyone who had quit in the past.


It also explained why the interview consisted mostly of my former employer arguing with every nearly every suggestion I made and also complaining that I had not raised these suggestions sooner.


Surely the whole point of an exit interview is to find out stuff that hadn;t been raised sooner. Also, making life hell for anyone who disagrees with you about anything is a management technique which is pretty well guaranteed to ensure that no-one ever suggests doing things differently except in an exit interview.


But the best was yet to come.


You see, if the purpose of an exit interview is to look at ways to improve the organisation, then it is difficult to understand why anyone would think that teh organisation can be improved by attacking the character and integrity of the person who is leaving.


Did this stop my former employer from doing that? No.


I really couldn't be bothered firing back. Really, if they can't understand why I would look for other work after they had threatened to fire me roughly once a fortnight for two months, then no amount of explaining it was going to change anything.


I think they actually expected an apology or something.


Seriously.

Rather unfortunately, mine was not the only exit interview of the day. Having failed to make me cry, they obviously felt the need to try harder with the next candidate, our receptionist/admin assistant who had been with the organisation for four years and had known my former employer for many years before that and had been recruited by my former employer personally.

So, of course, they yelled and swore at her until she left the office in tears, never to return.

A few days later, word got back to me that they had announced that they have decided that they will never conduct exit interviews ever again.

We met up at the pub half an hour later. I have only been punk in drublic* a couple of times in my life but I set out to ensure that this would be one of them. I had selected the pub on the basis that:

1. It was really quite close to the office

2. There was karaoke

3. $10 jugs, $5 basic spirits.

Sadly, many of my colleagues came up with thin excuses for failing to turn up, like a partner's Christmas party or a brother's wedding rehearsal, but enough people turned up to fill a table or two so that was fine.

My recently teary colleague, who is a devout Christian and drinks very little, cheered up rapidly after two vodkas, but had to leave relatively early because she had left her 15 year old son in charge at home and she wanted to get back before he set the place on fire. Most other people, including the friend who had picked me up from home that morning and agreed to drive me home, were gone by 7pm. I ended up hanging around for a while with a former colleague who left several years ago, and her husband who I had never met before.

After several more beers and a bourbon & coke for good measure, the karaoke started. It soon became clear that the three of us were the only ones in the whole pub who had not turned up solely for the purpose of singing.

At least, that's the only thing I can think of that could possibly explain why we were the only ones laughing. Highlights included a middle aged guy singing Pink's "There you go", and a dude who sang, to quote the lyrics on the screen precisely, "She ####### hates me".

I'm not sure that there is much point in typing ####### on the screen if the singer is clearly going to sing the actual lyrics, but good on them for giving it a go.

By 9pm, when we were done laughing until it hurt, my friends headed for home and I realised that I probably should have asked them for a lift. I also realised that I was too smashed to give a taxi driver directions and I was hungry.

After staggering to the nearest fast food outlet and eating a fast food burger for the first time in 10 years, I then came up with the lunatic idea that it wouldn't really take all that long to walk home.

Maybe I should have factored the five bottles of wine and stupidly heavy political autobiography in my bag into the equation.

Still, 95 minutes, a fairly seriously bruised shoulder from the bag, and a stop at 7 Eleven for a donut later, I staggered into my house and the start of a good long holiday.

I woke up the next morning with no hangover and a really, really big grin on my face.

A week or so later, it's still there.

* And another person resigned before she was pushed later the same day

** Best album title in history. Thanks to The Descendants for that one.