Richard Baum

Today is my last day at as an officer at Oldham Council, and I must say that I am very sad indeed to be leaving.

My emotions have been all over the place since the weekend, when my leaving do confirmed that I was actually about to be kicked out of the Civic Centre once and for all, into the unknown.  

It probably isn’t within the normal social bounds of convention for a 26 year old man elected to public office to be seen crying his eyes out at his desk, but I’ve come mighty close in the last 48 hours. The blinding realisation that it’s all about to be over has hit me like a sledgehammer to the head. Only with less blood.  

Nobody likes change, and much as I want to differ from the herd, I’m with them on this one. Don’t get me wrong, I am very much looking forward to my new job, with Pennine Care NHS Trust. It’s where I want to go, and it’ll be a new challenge and hopefully I can really make a difference.

But there’s a big difference between handing in your notice with a smile of satisfaction and an eight-week wind-down ahead of you, and the screaming cacophony of self-doubt that’s currently bouncing about my head ahead of next week’s fresh start. 

I’ve had two proper jobs in my life (councillor-ing aside). The first was rubbish. I was training to be an accountant, and found it contained the deadly duo of utter unfathomability and chronic tedium. I wasn’t cut out for it. And I was travelling from place to place, never knowing what the hell I was doing.  My current job’s different. I felt at home from day one. I have got on with my managers to a man (and woman) and for the last three years have been so deep within my comfort zone in terms of professional relationships that stress didn’t even cross the radar. But now I’m leaping away from the sleepy nest of reputation and routine I’ve built for myself, and into the unknown.  

In terms of Crap Jobs v Great Jobs, it’s 1-1 at the moment. Which side will the next job be on? By rights it should be a Great Job – the organisation is where I want to work, the sector is fascinating and the people I’ve met so far are lovely too. But it could be rubbish. 

What if I commit some unspeakable social faux pas on day one in the new job and never recover? Like stained trousers or a pen mark across my face? What if I just can’t do what I’m asked to do, and the job is simply beyond my capabilities? What if my manager and I don’t get on? Why can’t I stay in my comfort zone (with pay rises every year) forever? 

This morning, at my last one-to-one with my manager, we had fun reminiscing – a good laugh and a realisation that we’ve actually done some good work together. Next week the page will be blank. I’ll have all the impressing to do again, and I’ll be in meetings with people all of whom know each other and none of whom know me. What will they make of this strange new guy? Which are the good ones and which are the bad? Which ones are secretly sleeping with which others? I’ll have no idea at all… 

My current crop of colleagues are a decent bunch, and I think that at least some of them like me back. I’ve been very lucky indeed. There are a disproportionately high number of them who are genuinely lovely. One or two are absolute class acts whom I will miss dearly. The thought of working without them makes my heart pang with sadness, it really does. Because I’ll probably never see them again, and if I do then it’ll just be like bumping into any other old friend in the street – an awkwardly familiar set of dull questions and a growing feeling that you just want them to go away. Even if I do manage to stay in touch, it’ll never be the same again. 

I got a card yesterday from a lady who used to manage me. What was inside was just a heart-breaking message that made me want to rip up my notice and go and sit on the floor of her office running errands for her forever until one of us retired or died. Her and the others, I just don’t want to leave them behind! 

And yet the bonds we form with these people are odd, when I think about it. These are the guys we spend half our lives with, but never scratch beneath the surface of. The people we laugh and joke with, but say goodbye at the office door and leave to live their own real lives alone. And the folks we know so many snippets about that they can seem unfeasibly perfect, yet in reality we probably don’t know them at all. The guy who makes me laugh so hard at work that my back hurts might kick his cat down the stairs at night for all I know…  

All this doubt of course is based on nothing but my own lack of self-confidence and the distant possibility that I just might not get on with anyone I meet. But it’s gnawing away at me to such an extent that I don’t know if it’s that that’s causing the upset or the fact I’m leaving where I am now. Maybe it’s both, I suppose… 

Whichever it is, it’s happening. There’s nothing I can do about it. And when I stop wallowing in self-pity long enough to think about it, there’s a great new job starting on Monday, and all this’ll be forgotten in no time.

Either that or I’m unemployed and homeless.

Ah well…

Rick