The Company You Keep
This morning I had the great pleasure of meeting Momo for brunch at The High Dive in Mission Bay. Our original, annual meeting place was supposed to be this Saturday at the Balboa 8 Mile starting line, but this year neither of us felt ready for such a rough race course.
She asked the same question everyone’s been asking since my last day on the job: How are you doing?
I was, and still am, riding atop a tidal wave of good will and kind gestures. I’m glad she asked, though, because it gave me another excuse to reflect on my final week of work.
Those last few work projects I lingered over, just to have something to do each day between clearing out a cupboard here, a drawer there. I drafted a list of my regular duties for when I’m gone, and it came to five pages. I called together some So You Think You Can Dance fans for a very special afternoon tea time.
My boss unknowingly picked my favorite restaurant in Del Mar for a farewell lunch. The weather, the day, the meal and especially the company -- all perfect. Even the heavy traffic was ok, because I was in no hurry for a change.
I remember thinking as I sat with Patricia from the fourth floor a day later, sneaking in bites of egg and potato between so many laughs at breakfast: Why did we wait until I was leaving to do this?
Jessie threw me a surprise Happy Hour, and, well before that third glass of wine, I was indeed content. I soaked in the random conversations around the long table and contributed to as many as I could. Victoria gave me a gift-wrapped bottle of really nice wine that evening with instructions to save it for a special occasion, even as one was unfolding.
The lunchtime “microwaveside chat gang” all said good-bye in their own way. Justin gave me tire accessories and a quick bike tune-up. Ping brought by white peaches from the Korean market and delicious Taiwanese bread. Peter promised me one more climb up to an awesome overlook we discovered months ago.
I hugged so many people that final day, in the hallways and the parking lot, the cubicles and the offices, the restroom and the breakroom. Everyone offered to circulate my resume or serve as a reference. When I told the CEO I hoped to next work for a non-profit, he instantly offered up business contacts and helped me form a strategy.
For some reason, I always seemed to fall apart in Lars’s presence. And Pete’s. And knowing this, I did my darndest to avoid saying good-bye to them and to Paul and Lee and Katie, who knew me best and who I will miss most. I will greatly miss Jessie too, but she’d done so much for me that week that I owed her one last tearful embrace, which I proffered at the absolute last moment for both our sakes.
Then I turned in my laptop and Blackberry and gathered my things and headed out, the last from our department to leave the office on Fridays, as usual.
She asked the same question everyone’s been asking since my last day on the job: How are you doing?
I was, and still am, riding atop a tidal wave of good will and kind gestures. I’m glad she asked, though, because it gave me another excuse to reflect on my final week of work.
Those last few work projects I lingered over, just to have something to do each day between clearing out a cupboard here, a drawer there. I drafted a list of my regular duties for when I’m gone, and it came to five pages. I called together some So You Think You Can Dance fans for a very special afternoon tea time.
My boss unknowingly picked my favorite restaurant in Del Mar for a farewell lunch. The weather, the day, the meal and especially the company -- all perfect. Even the heavy traffic was ok, because I was in no hurry for a change.
I remember thinking as I sat with Patricia from the fourth floor a day later, sneaking in bites of egg and potato between so many laughs at breakfast: Why did we wait until I was leaving to do this?
Jessie threw me a surprise Happy Hour, and, well before that third glass of wine, I was indeed content. I soaked in the random conversations around the long table and contributed to as many as I could. Victoria gave me a gift-wrapped bottle of really nice wine that evening with instructions to save it for a special occasion, even as one was unfolding.
The lunchtime “microwaveside chat gang” all said good-bye in their own way. Justin gave me tire accessories and a quick bike tune-up. Ping brought by white peaches from the Korean market and delicious Taiwanese bread. Peter promised me one more climb up to an awesome overlook we discovered months ago.
I hugged so many people that final day, in the hallways and the parking lot, the cubicles and the offices, the restroom and the breakroom. Everyone offered to circulate my resume or serve as a reference. When I told the CEO I hoped to next work for a non-profit, he instantly offered up business contacts and helped me form a strategy.
For some reason, I always seemed to fall apart in Lars’s presence. And Pete’s. And knowing this, I did my darndest to avoid saying good-bye to them and to Paul and Lee and Katie, who knew me best and who I will miss most. I will greatly miss Jessie too, but she’d done so much for me that week that I owed her one last tearful embrace, which I proffered at the absolute last moment for both our sakes.
Then I turned in my laptop and Blackberry and gathered my things and headed out, the last from our department to leave the office on Fridays, as usual.
