I had no choice but to open the e-mail from El Slackerino. (One of these days, Amy G., I'll be mature enough to take your advice.)
So the e-mail said, "Congratulations. . . Way to go. I hope everything is going well for you."
My real life response: Delete.
My imagined response: Um, whatever. You haven't given a thought to me in a year and jumped at the chance to look busy as you type away and fish for information. It's pretty obvious everything is going well for me. I don't work with you anymore--and hey, I won the pool for the week, didn't I?
O.K., all kidding and sarcasm aside, that actually was a back-handed way to inspire me at my current job. There are still a lot of challenges for me, and the looming "what if this is the only year I get to work here" question has been making its presence known lately.
When it comes down to it, I'd still rather be sitting in the high school library at my very public desk (where one silly senior keeps trying to sneak up behind me and make me jump!), dealing with the occasional technology failure or ranting teen than be seething in my little office about things like #4 & #5 here.
Most of the time, anyway.