Shit off, losers.

We are engaged in a Mexican standoff, my employers and I.

I resigned on Friday, in writing, explaining that I was giving them two weeks' notice. I received a shitty letter on Saturday, informing me that, although they were accepting my resignation*, they "couldn't commit" to my leaving in just a fortnight. At this point they felt moved to inform me of my leaving date. So I wrote back, ever-so-politely explaining that they seemed to have misunderstood - I wasn't asking if I could leave in two weeks, I was telling them when I was leaving.

It all got a bit weird after that. I had an email this morning from the Personnel department saying that the director understood my feelings, but would "like" me to work four weeks' notice. I wrote back, by now slightly thrown by resigning for the third time in as many days, reiterating my leaving date, giving them chapter and verse on exactly why I was leaving, and pointing out that I am in fact free to leave (on full pay) at any moment owing to them failing to provide a safe working environment for me, and that they should consider two weeks pretty reasonable given the circumstances.

They have yet to respond.

And so here we sit, in a weird limbo**. I am resolutely not going back after next Friday. They are going la-la-la and telling themselves that they are resolving the situation and that I will work a four week notice period. Which they have not, and I am not.

Now, having looked into the technicalities of not fulfilling my contracted notice period, I am almost looking forward to it getting into a real pissing contest. I mean, what's the worst they can do? I don't need a reference from them. They can't refuse to pay me for hours worked, or withhold my P45. They can threaten me with legal action, but they would have to pay to bring a civil suit and are extremely unlikely to win any compo. In any case, the minute they get legal on me I'll simply walk. If I'm getting sued for two weeks' notice we might as well round it up to three, after all. So yeah, bring it on. And all that.

That said, a small part of me is slightly worried that on the morning of Monday 18th June I will hear a sharp knock at the door at seven o'clock, following which I will be forcibly restrained, carted off to a small Nissen hut in the middle of the forest and compelled to catch up on my filing under pain of torture. Perhaps they will make me watch Ainsley Harriot on a loop until I agree to do another two weeks. Perhaps small bamboo slivers will be slid beneath my fingernails, even as Jodie Marsh explains in a grating voice that if I don't comply she will fill me in on every z-list nightclub conquest she's ever made, or maybe Alan Titchmarsh will read aloud every sex scene from every book he's ever written in a bad Fronch accent while I am waterboarded.

So. Um. Aren't I brave? Or stupid. Delete as applicable. You know the routine.

UPDATE: I rule! They finally capitulated saw sense yesterday. Strangely, this change of heart came about fifteen minutes after I sent an email to the senior management team detailing exactly what working conditions were like on site. It's amazing what can happen if you can manage to get "Health and Safety Executive" and "ACAS" into the same sentence. Goodbye, random employers! Best of luck with recruiting to fill the vacancy!

* Also, what happens if they don't accept a resignation? Has that ever really happened to anyone? Do you get locked in the stationery cupboard and have more and more work slid under the door until you are forced to either process it or die? Do tell.

** By that I am referring to that what-happens-now place, not that my employers and I are attempting to outdo each other by sliding under a series of ever-lowering poles, with the winner being the one who doesn't touch their shoulders on the floor. Oh lord. What if that is what they are planning? With my knees, I'll never win. I'll be there forever.