You know, sometimes I think I've come up with a great title for a post based on some pop culture reference. Then I realise that you need to be of a certain age - as in, a certain age like mine - to get it. I suppose it's a similar experience for tourists in
Wales, visiting the pretty village of Portmeirion and wondering why the hell it is that the shops sell badges featuring penny farthings with the number 6. I mean, even I was only two when The Prisoner first came out. Award yourself two points if you got the TV series reference from the title; deduct one if you thought it was only an Iron Maiden song intro.
Anyway, lest you think this post doesn't have a point, dear reader, it does: today is the First Day of my Retirement.
In the series The Prisoner, the main character resigns from his security job but, because of the knowledge he has, can't be allowed to roam free. I did wonder if, similar to Patrick McGoohan's character, I would be gassed by my corporate laptop when I shut it down for the final time last night, only to wake up in some weird village where everyone dresses like personal bankers.
Today did feel a bit strange though, and not just because I'm still recovering from COVID. No, today felt like a weird amalgam of annual leave, weekend and pulling-a-sickie, all at once. A mix of freedom and vague guilt all at the same time. Welcome to not knowing what day of the week it is, and it not mattering anyway, I thought.
At least my staff ID is one number that no longer defines me. My original number when I joined in the 1980s had 7 digits, later prefixed by another digit and, later still, a letter. Having carried it around for 39 years I hope it's now retired like me. I do wonder who employee number 6 was but I suspect most of us met a few number 2s.
Be seeing you!
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