Someone relatively new on our team at work was asked a question by someone on another team. She said, “I don’t know, but ask Chirpy, he’ll probably know. He knows pretty much everything about everything.”
My boss regularly forwards things from people with something that says, “adding Chirpy. He can sort anything out.”
I’m quiet but reliable, holding everything together and I think the place would fall apart without me. I’m basically cement.
I’ll be given temporary accommodation for one month, a “relocation fund” that is an extra one month salary, US medical insurance (including dentist/opticians), 20 vacation days + 10 public holidays, and a “significant pay increase” the exact amount of which I don’t yet know, and my employer will pay for any “excess shipping” to move my stuff across the ocean.
I also have some admin stuff to do from my end then I’ll have to go to the US embassy in London for my actual “interview”.
If all goes well, my official start date in the US will be June 1st and I’ll have a piece of paper and a stamp in my passport entitling me to stay in the US for 3 years, with an option to extend.
Before my NY move I’m trying to type up all my old travel journals. It’s a tough job, mainly because it brings back so many memories.
As much as I love my job and my current life in general, I’d give anything to re-live April 2009, my 2nd month in the jungle.
Such a lot of cringe in the journal itself though. Man, I was so melodramatic.
Got a meeting with HR in Wednesday about my NY move, I’ve been really talkative with everyone at work, and I’m enjoying my job more than ever.
But despite how great my life looks from the outside, I can’t help but be reminded of this Eels lyric:
"You think I got it all going my way, then why am I such a fucking mess?"