Today was the day I told work about the move.

It didn’t happen the way I wanted it to, but the word is out.

I made an appointment with my supervisor for 10:30, and said in the appointment request that I needed to discuss with him an important work environment matter. My intention was to obtain his general agreement about the nature of the work I’m doing, acknowledgment that my counterparts are all distributed, and obtain concurrence that I could perform the job away from the office… THEN tell him that I’d actually be several states away from the office (having already established that no direct connection to the office would be necessary).

Not really how things turned out.

At 10:30 I stood at the door to his office; it was closed, and behind it he was having a discussion with another man, whom I could identify. I figured they’d be done in a moment or two, and so I waited.

For twenty minutes.

At this point, I’ve got only ten precious minutes remaining of the thirty-minute slot I’d been allotted (e.g., he accepted the meeting request, so he knew I would be there). I knocked on the door, and he told me “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need a few more minutes here.”

This, quite honestly, completely pissed me off. I thought, “We had an appointment! WTF?!” and left with a giant cartoon black cloud over my head. In the Navy, you didn’t do this to your troops. If somebody comes to you with a problem, you took care of that sailor. That’s the job of a Chief, and to me, the measure of a quality supervisor. I lay this both on the supervisor for not making sure the other guy knew we had an appointment, and on the other guy for swiping the time I had allotted.

Roughly ten minutes later the other guy stopped by to let me know it was my turn…. with maybe three minutes left of my thirty. How awesome. I went into the office and closed the door as the supe gave me a soft-spoken, “You know, I’m sorry about that, he came in…” —

In interrupted him the Navy way: “WHAT THE HELL??”

I made it clear I was agitated by his complete indifference. I said it loudly and forcefully. Not a yell, but loud enough to differentiate it from normal speech.

And it got his attention.

Suddenly he’s concerned. “What is it? What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong.” I’m seated in the chair trying to push the anger aside so I can get on with what I have to say. He is likely misinterpreting the emotion as a function of this big news I have to break.

I came clean: I told him that I’m leaving for Kansas in a couple of weeks on a family matter, and left the explanation there; added that I believe I can still fulfill the department’s obligations to the foundation, given the structure and nature of my assignment.

He concurred, but offered that he’d have to speak with the project head about the matter, but promised he’d make it a priority. Completely understandable.

I returned to my desk, and, a short while later, was in front of the project head.

Here’s where things get icky. I told him the same thing I told the supervisor, including the offer. The project head talked about a larger purpose behind their intent for me, which I recognize I’m not going to able to accomplish for them. I believe it’s fair for me to say that if the project head remains attached to that concept as the overall measure, I’m going to have to put Plan B into effect: taking an extended leave. If he’s amenable to me continuing as I am in the short term (say, six months?), I’m golden.

~ TO BE CONTINUED ~

– Tony