Everything's come full circle. You may recall I was laid off from my job last February; today, I'm back at that job, which inexplicably opened back up. I'm back, thankfully, at the McLean/Tysons office (not far from Wasp Lane!).
In fact, strangely, nothing has changed. I'm in the same office I was before. My name was still on the door. The phone number's the same. My message and password were still on the voicemail system. I'm back on the exact same task I was before. And, as before, there's no actual work to be done. I'm guess I'm back to being a full-time blogger... heh.
All year, of course, I'd been working at my company's headquarters in Reston. Dear fucking Lord it was awful. Just such a bizarre environment; people were really grouchy for no reason. Nobody actually talked to each other unless they had a problem. The day I arrived, I wasn't introduced to anyone; the day I left, nobody said goodbye.
It did get better after those first few months. I had this awful, grouchy old cripple of a boss; he eventually left. My "office" was a conference room shared with two other people; we eventually got a real offi... er, well, cubicle space. But at least it had a window, and all my bosses were downstairs, which meant I didn't have to see them too often.
But the best part about leaving is that I'm no longer working for the military; I'm back to working on general aviation stuff. My powers will no longer be used for evil! In celebration, I'm performing a little requiem for MFing Reston. I hope I never have to set foot in that vanilla bean "neighborhood" again. I'm throwing my SmartTag in the trash. (And then digging it out again when I realize it can get me through the tolls up to Atlantic City.)
Most memorable Reston moment? I think it's going to have to be when my boss said he used to live on Elden Street in Herndon, and that it was a "rough neighborhood." His actual quote:
"We should hire those temporary [Hispanic] workers who hang around the 7-11 on Elden St. in Herndon." No longer joking: "I used to live around there; it's a really bad neighborhood."
Ugghh. This guy was really a piece of work. His hairstyle calls to mind what the mascot for a brillo pad company might look like. He was a self-described "control freak", and that was putting it mildly; he drove me and my co-workers nuts with all kinds of over-the-top rules and meetings. In his office, he has a whiteboard and 10 different colored markers; there was a piece of paper with this name and phone number attached to every single dry-erase marker. (Where are they going to go? The dry-erase black market?) His favorite quote was, "Well, this is how we did it at [name of failed telecom currently embroiled in accounting scandal]," which apparently means that's the right way to do it in every possible working evironment, since it clearly helped them out a lot.
Bottom line: I never have to see or talk to this man again. AND THAT MEANS IT'S FUCKING PARTY TIME. Adios, fuckjob!