Archive: September 2007

As I drove in to work today, observing the shafts of summer’s last sunlight cutting through the trees, I reminded myself that I would not make the same drive on Monday. Or the next day. Or the day after that. Today is my last day at this company and it feels very strange.

My cube-neighbor put together a good luck party on Tuesday, for which the calendar invitation read:

Goodbyes are the pits so instead we’ll have a GOOD LUCK party for RA. She doesn’t like surprises so she’s been informed about the event, but a separate email will come with details.

My co-workers assembled all of my favorite things to eat, which, when viewed in one place, compose the most random selection of foods. I had my choice of chili, caprese salad, Funfetti cupcakes with strawberry frosting, dill pickles, Swedish fish, Red Vines, and gummy bears. I have rather eclectic taste, I suppose, although the collective effect is a bit nauseating. I received a scrapbook of workplace pictures (my bridal shower, my birthdays, Halloween costumes), thoughtful notes, and puns! If that weren’t enough, we played a cutthroat game of Apples to Apples because it’s public knowledge that I am a board game enthusiast. I enjoyed all of the work they put into it, but the whole time, I couldn’t help but think, Man, they really have me down. It was almost spooky.

To get me through a packed week, I made aggressive to-do lists and took great pleasure in slashing through each item with a permanent marker. Each black line brought me that much closer to being finished and I relished the feeling. When I cleaned out my cube, I was startled to realize how much stuff I depended on to make my desk my own. Old birthday cards, fortune-cookie sayings, a lei from my bridal shower, and rubber ducks were all packed up into a copy box, along with a drug store’s worth of contact solution, hand lotion, lip balm, and nail files. I also seem to have a problem with hoarding pens and sticky notes; whoever comes to this workspace after me will be sufficiently equipped.

I’ve sent out my final goodbye to the company, told a select few colleagues about this little corner of the web (hi!), and checked off every e-mail in my Follow-up folder. I’ll shut down my laptop, leave it in my empty cube. Then I’ll glance over the gray desk and walls to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind. I will miss my co-workers dearly, but I’m not planning on coming back any time soon.

Onward and upward, friends.

Oh, Ted. It has been a rough week for all of us, hasn’t it? JG leaves at 6:15 in the morning without a word of good morning or good bye and he doesn’t even come home until after 7 or 8 that evening because of lots of volleyball matches and graduate class. That kind of schedule makes him eat late and turn in early, which cuts into your playtime severely. But I’m even worse, aren’t I? Brusque walks in the morning with no patience for sniffing or saying “hi” to nice neighbors only lead up to longer workdays. You get a brief spot of fresh air when I get home and let you out for a bathroom break, but — oh, the injustice! — then you have to go back in your crate because I have to make dinner or clean up the house because we’re having company the next night.

I can see it in your eyes. You can’t understand why my laptop is so much more appealing than your furry self. It doesn’t make sense that JG would want to read Sports Illustrated instead of giving you a tummy rub. After a whole day away from you, how is it that we fall asleep on the couch during reruns of The Office when you are sitting there, waiting for us to lavish attention on you? Why don’t we respond to your initial wailing from the crate with utmost concern? Why would we want to go to bed early? Why?!

Oh, Ted. This, too, shall pass. Just put your most pitiful face on. That will make us feel much better.

Tune in to Roosday-Tuesday and Wednesday-Bensday for the other two-thirds of the doggie cuteness trifecta!

And by “we,” I mean “I.” It’s a week for the royal “we,” uttered in a low, desperate tone wrought by the prospect of a stretch of days so full of work that only having duplicates of myself would alleviate the burden.

Apparently, it’s also a week for being melodramatic. Woe is me.

After a series of conversations following my resignation, my supervisor realized that I do quite a bit of work that would need to be reallocated upon my departure. Even worse, she realized that only I knew how to manage my specific projects, so in addition to the actual work I had slated for this week, I had to add documentation and training for my replacements. It’s funny, though not at all comedic, how all of that extra preparation takes up much more time than actually doing the work.

I’m grateful that this week is my last week at this job. I only have four days left — hooray! Only four days left to write up instructions, train three people on four projects, tie up loose ends so that all of my contacts are transitioned smoothly, and complete forty hours of software testing. I’m on deck for a lot of dinners this week since JG has a heavy volleyball schedule and I volunteered to host a game night at our house, so there is no rest for the weary. It’s the last push until the end, I’m telling myself. Just get through this and then you have a whole, lovely week off.

I can do this. Everything will get finished. We will make it.

Over the weekend, I had Ted all to myself and the thought made me nervous. It was the true test of my affection for this dog and I think we did okay, all things considered. We took two 1.5-mile walks each day, didn’t have any accidents, and spent an afternoon lounging in the shade. I sat on my beach chair and knitted while Ted, tethered to my chair with a carabiner, wandered around the lawn and chewed on a tennis ball. He was entertained and I was relaxed. Not bad at all.

The highlight of the weekend occurred after I got home from the football game with my friend. I scooped Ted up to take him upstairs, explaining, “He’s too small to handle the steps, but he’ll get it eventually.”

My friend sized Ted up and cocked an eye at me. “Are you sure?” she asked.

So, we plopped him down next to the stairs and walked up ahead of him, coaxing him up all the way. What do you know? Slowly but surely, the little guy trundled up the steps! My jaw dropped and I couldn’t stop squealing or clapping. My friend just laughed at me and said I was “such a mom.” Uh, whatever that means.

That night, I had a twinge of regret at the fact that JG missed this milestone. Well, no matter. I made Ted do it about eight times trying to get good pictures, so JG got an eyeful last night.

The next step: going down the stairs! Without taking a tumble, I mean.

Tune in to Roosday-Tuesday and Wednesday-Bensday for the other two-thirds of the doggie cuteness trifecta!