So tired I forgot I was tired

As some of you may know, I am the world's second-oldest graduate. I started in a graduate program in February this year in the Best Department in the Commonwealth, which delivers the Most Important Functions to the Government. Rah Rah Rah. No sarcasm, all those other sub-standard departments can eat our dust. We rule. Or we could if we wanted to (insert evil, but obedient to the Public Service Code of Conduct, laughter here).

Anyway this week I started working in a different area of the Best Department. We have rotations, which does not mean we spin around manically (only on the inside, dear readers), but does mean we spread our time across three areas during our first year.

My first rotation was challenging, rewarding and busy. I enjoyed it, and was ever-so-rarely stressed enough to sit in the toilet cubicle wondering if I would ever quite manage to understand just what I was supposed to be achieving and how I could describe in writing what I didn't understand. I accrued one day's flex leave in the rotation, plus the odd hour here and there.

The second rotation involved much slower spinning, since there really was not quite enough work to do for all of us. My general knowledge of Best Department tells me that this is incredibly rare, before anyone rushes off to bash-a-lazy-public-servant land. The people were knowledgeable, funny, kind and I hope to meet them many times for morning tea, since they put on a morning tea that would be the envy of the Queen and all her corgis. I accrued one and a half hours flex leave in that rotation.

On Monday I moved to my next rotation. After four days I already had a whole day's flex time. Actually, a whole day plus an hour and a half. So does this mean that I did as much in four days as I did in nine months? Or that I've just become really, really slow?