This poem is my exit interview. I’m giving HR my reasons for leaving. They sit there like psychiatrists, taking notes.
I was happy to begin with, I tell them. No new arrival could have asked for more: kindly mentors to help me find my feet,
sleepy afternoons in the sunlit atrium, a screen and keyboard to disseminate my work. Records will show that I made good progress,
hit it off with colleagues and line managers and met the targets I was paid to meet. What’s changed then? No gripe about money or status
just a feeling I‘ve accomplished all I can. Oh, I know where I’m off to isn’t rated, that ...
There are approximately 64 more words in this article.
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