Five months. The middle manager to whom I now report is afraid of me. They want to keep me, if not happy at least not too disgruntled as I convert various bits of my Mac-based work product into crude Windows equivalents (crude because they’ll have to be rendered into MS Word form—there’s no way BDS will rent the Adobe suite of apps, and so far as I can tell, there’s only one other person on the payroll who’d be competent to learn these—and she’s not more than a year or two behind me on her way out the door). Both the software and the equipment are mine, since following the 2003 merger BDS, formerly Mac-agnostic, went all Windows jihadist on me.