Everything Flows and Nothing Stays

Towards the end of the week, I attend the annual Anonymous Council evening reception for local volunteers. It is always a very heart-warming occasion, and is also an excuse to wear a long dress and glittery earrings. I am quite enjoying myself chatting to the people at my table when I happen to notice that my former Head of Department is sitting at the adjacent one. Former Head of Department is the person whose Investigative Report was entirely skewed to protect Line Manager and sought to totally discredit me. (So lacking in neutrality was this report that it was eventually discounted, and the investigation was passed to a completely different department).

The obvious Stepford Employee response is to wave graciously from a safe distance. But during a break in proceedings, while others are moving from table to table greeting community members and colleagues, Real Woman slips into my frock and glides to the temporarily vacated seat at his side.

“Hello my darling”, says Former Head of Department, very warmly. His tone does not appear in any way sarcastic. He also seizes me in an embrace and kisses me enthusiastically on the cheek. I cast a discreet glance in the direction of his wineglass, but he seems surprisingly sober for this point in the evening.

“Can I call you ‘darling’ ?” says Former Head of Department, suddenly mindful of my preference for observance of appropriate boundaries.

“You can call me whatever you like now!” I tell him. “You’ve retired”.

Former Head of Department then starts echoing Union Rep's words.

“How are you Katharine? Really – how are you?”

It's a fair question because, now I come to think of it, during one of my last meetings with Former Head of Department, I spilt water all down my front because my hand was shaking so badly.

“I’m much better,” I tell him. “I’ve got a fantastic work-life balance now. I’m doing lots of interesting things. And I’m starting to reconnect with my work again”.

“That’s great,” says Former Head of Department. “I’m really pleased”.

I ask him how he is enjoying retirement, and what he is up to, and we have a pleasant chat for 10 minutes before I head back to my table. Later, Husband asks me how I managed to go over and speak to him, after everything that has happened. “It just seemed the right thing to do,” I tell him. “It felt - right”.

At the end of the reception, I find myself standing with senior colleagues from another department, a couple of councillors, and New Boss. I am feeling very at ease, so am chatting animatedly with everyone and making them laugh. This continues right up until the point the organisers start shooing us out of the building.

I go and get changed into my boots, as schlepping home on the bus while wearing strappy sandals doesn’t seem like a very good idea. I emerge from the building and bump into New Boss again, texting on the street. I pause to say goodnight, but he seems to want to chat.

“You look very nice,” he says. He sounds surprised, so I am not entirely sure whether to interpret this as a compliment, or a disparaging indictment of my usual appearance.

“Thank you,” I say.

“And you are excellent with the councillors,” he says. “You communicate with them very well. In fact”, he adds, sounding even more surprised “you are very good company! Yes, you really are extremely good company. When you are not in a bad mood”.

Mmmmmmmm.

I think this might be a classic example of A Backhanded Compliment….?

“I’m always good company,” I tell him. “I am always good company and in a good mood unless I am being bullied”.

We do not pursue this particular line of discussion; however we do stand on the corner of the street chatting for another 20 minutes. New Boss tells me some entertaining (and entirely appropriate) stories about his past career. I respond likewise. It is all quite civilised.

It is all quite civilised ??!!

We part amicably, and he heads for the pub in which the late crowd are gathered, while I head for the bus stop trying to process what seems to have been a significant evening in ways I can’t quite yet fathom.

But one thing’s for sure.

Life is subtly shifting.

Nothing stays the same for ever.