I retired from the federal government in April. I was so ill all last fall and winter; I had the flu or a cold constantly. The management where I worked seemed hired purely to block movement of any kind. When you are trying to get people's compensation out, that is very frustrating. I know of one director general who took months to approve a simple confirmation letter; another would waste every meeting talking non-stop about herself, dropping what I'm sure she thought were clever little bon-mots and Dorothy Parker-isms, necessitating an entire other meeting between the other participants to plan actions we could undertake to move things along despite her. Her claim to fame is allegedly having sex once with Bobby Orr. Or maybe Bobby Hull? Whoever it was, they didn't call her back for a repeat performance, sort of like her father's career as a Member of Parliament!
The new Assistant Deputy Minister was from a department we worked with to process payments. When I announced the name to our partners in that department in a weekly teleconference, there was a second or two of silence, and then they all burst out laughing. You can imagine our consternation. Now I know why they laughed.
One of my retirement projects was to get a dog. I had always wanted to have another Pomeranian; I'd had one briefly as a child and it was taken away. Apparently my Ukrainian grandparents had also had one, according to my Aunt Isabel. So in April I bought Dreamer from a local breeder. He is learning to walk on a leash, bark less, and do the "sit" "stay" "down" stuff.
