Three-thirty in the afternoon, getting ready to teach the last class of the week, and comes … an email.

It’s one of those dumb Google calendar things I hate, "inviting" me to a meeting, by which they mean demanding my presence. Next week. In the same slot as yesterday’s stupid meeting. Except it’s just me, the Dean and some guy I don’t recognize until I look it up, at which point, realizing that he is some HR muckeymuck, it dawns on me that this is a wailing air raid siren and that I’m now scheduled for a professional bombing, not unlike the guy with poor judgment from yesterday.

I shot back breezily, saying I would attend and asking if there’s an agenda. It was a rhetorical question–I know what the agenda is.

They didn’t answer in the first couple of hours, and I haven’t checked email since. I don’t expect a response, much less a meaningful one.

It’s over for me here.

Fortunately I had anticipated this as the likely outcome.

Unfortunately, it still hit me hard for a few hours. Made me feel bad like they wanted …

Then I got back to work on alternatives, which has been my primary focus since the solstice anyway.

Fuck you, you dicks.

I deserve better people in my life of mandated wage slavery than you will ever be.

So now I really am off to find them, with a will.