As time marches inexorably on and another week draws to a close, the Gorse Fox has worked from home again. His aim is that, on Fridays, this should be the default setting; and to be fair, it pretty much works out that way.
The day was, again, peppered with calls, emails, and messages from the unhappy appraisal recipient. The Gorse Fox finds himself walking a fine line between following the party-line and arming himself with a baseball bat for a face-to-face discussion. On checking, however, it seems to be contrary to Starfleet policy to beat someone round the head and tell them to get lost. The ridiculous part of this is that the protagonist is quite good at their job - but just seems to be incapable of any reasoned, social interaction.
Interestingly, GF has shed all of his other responsibilities in his old division and is just waiting for confirmation that his transfer is now complete. Certainly he is disconnecting from the old, but has yet to fully connect with the new.