An organisation of which I am part had employed a person for whom I have no great affection in a role for which he was not at all well suited, in much the same way a turnip would not be suited for the role of Lucasian Professor of Mathematics. The woman who replaced him in this role was eventually sacked for, as far as I could work out, not working hard enough to undo the damage for which he was meanwhile richly rewarded. The idea that she ever worked at less than 300% of human capacity for her entire time is only one of several lies perpetrated by the people in power at the time.
If you like, you can interpret it as any typical parting of the ways in a professional environment: you’re leaving because your boss reckons you didn’t do a good enough job, but she’s about to find out just exactly how much you were doing, and that maybe getting rid of you won’t get rid of the headaches.
This is a song about that. It’s to the tune of Breakfast At Tiffany’s, by Big Blue Something.
You’ll say we’ve been through the procedure,
Proceeding to departure:
It’s high time we should part.
You’ll give your earnest explanations
Regarding expectations —
Still somehow you don’t seem sad.
And I said, “What about getting this work done?”
She said, “I’m sure we’ll sort something out,
And as I recall someone told me it’s easy.”
And I said, “Well, that’s clearly all right.”
I see them, they’re picking up the pieces,
An awful lot of pieces…
I guess they’ll go on.
So what now? The sun is sweetly dying,
Oh but somewhere else it’s rising,
There’s so much more to be done.