Argh

I always know it's time to leave my job by the way I feel when I make up my mind to do it. Sadness means no, I can stick it out a bit longer. Relief means it's time to go.

As it happens, I rather like my job, or at least the part that is my job. Over the past few months, however, I've been pulled into the orbits of some pretty frustrating folks. Yes, I can help -- oh, you're not sure what you want or how to get it done? Perhaps you could let me know when you figure that out -- no? It didn't help that my former roommate was among them, and it may not surprise you that I am not particularly fond of her, nor do I especially trust her or her judgment. 

I'd consoled myself with the knowledge that a looming reorganization was going to take these people off to their own little world, where they could ponder and redraft things to their hearts' content. There are only about six weeks left. I would feel relief when they left. No need to seek my own relief. 

But it's become clear that while the looming reorganization will sweep some of them away, it will bring some of them closer. So that isn't comforting at all. 

And so I need a new job. I'd assumed the job-hunting process would take longer than simply waiting for the problems in human form to disappear, so I am already behind in my search. This displeases me, as it is wasted time I could have invested in, at minimum, looking around. 

I can't say I feel relief at this decision, at least not the kind I feel when I've mentally clocked out of a job. Which tells me I am still not totally convinced there is no possibility things will get better. There must be some hope in the back of my head; I'm just not sure where it's hiding.