I am now officially unemployed. It feels very strange to say that. Yesterday was my last day in a job I’ve had for almost 3 years. That’s by far the longest I’ve ever been in the same job (although as I’m only 25 and graduated at 22, there’s not really much competition); while it hasn’t always been perfect, I was very comfortable in my little VF world. Wednesday was very much a day for mixed feelings. Excitement to finally get going and start this new adventure, but also great sadness to leave my wonderful colleagues behind. They’re a crazy bunch, but they’re my crazies. I’m sure that in a few days/weeks they’ll start finding all the problems I’ve secretly caused and start to curse my name (lies and slander, Ewa. Lies and slander… I hope!).
Everyone’s favourite part of someone’s last day at VF is the dreaded leaving presentation. The bit where the team leader says some nice words, the soon-to-be-ex-employee says some nice words back, and there’s a card and gift. Ok, that’s selling it very short. It was lovely but horrendously embarassing. I might be loud but, contrary to popular belief, I hate being the centre of attention. I just about managed not to cry, but it was a close one (apparently even my arms went red…). I wasn’t the only one almost-crying, though, so at least there’s that. Have I said that it was an emotional day? It was actually really difficult to make myself walk out of the door at the end of the day, because then it would be real and not some bizarre fantasy I’ve been living for 9 months. But no, today I have no job and someone else is sitting at my desk and calling it his. Rude.
Anyway, back to the point of this post (there is one, I promise!). The leaving gift. My wonderful (ex-)team know me well, and they knew I wanted a travel mascot (ok, so I may have dropped one or two subtle hints. Subtle in the way that a sledgehammer is subtle). Why a travel mascot? So that I don’t have to take selfies, of course! One of the main problems with travelling alone is that you either end up with no photos that have you in them, loads of selfies (let’s not), or you have to ask a stranger to take a picture of you. With a travel mascot, it can be your official stand-in for photos. See the Sydney Opera House? Here’s a random cuddly toy in the same picture to prove that it was you. Genius!
My team know me, and they have a sense of humour. There was a definite theme to my leaving presents (look at the picture and guess what it is. Bear in mind that the notebook was from one of my best friends and not from work. Can you guess, yet?). That’s right. Sheep. I knew I shouldn’t have made all those jokes about becoming a sheep farmer… Jokes aside, I adore my new mascot. I loved my other gifts, too, although I couldn’t bring myself to read the card until I got home (without the risk of tears). It’s absolutely perfect, exactly the kind of thing that I wanted. Small, sturdy, and incredibly cute. There’s just one problem. It has no name. It is The Sheep With No Name *insert Ennio Morricone music here*. This is a wrong that must be righted. This sheep cannot go nameless for long.
Here are the suggestions we’ve had so far:
- Marty (full name Marty the Smartwool Sheep. My current favourite)
- Donald (No, Melania.)
Do you have a favourite? Maybe you have a better suggestion? Do I care whether this sheep has a male or female name? No, because screw your gender normative names, that’s why. Post your favourites or suggestions in the comments, and I’ll pick a name by Monday afternoon.
Coming soon: Maybe I’ll actually write that post about packing…