I gave notice last Wednesday, and I’m now in the strange, strange phase of winding things down at my job.
On Friday I stood before my bookshelf in my office, trying to decide what to bring home, and I started to tear up a little. It wasn’t that any of the books carried any emotional resonance; it was just that they were attached to events that had occurred over the years, and thus were part of my life. I couldn’t help feeling nostalgic.
I have all these things in my office:
- A heavy metal paperweight with the words “Dwell in possibility” embossed on it, given to me by L
- A maraca given to me by E
- A key chain that looks like a little man, and a very strange metal five-pointed star with chains hanging off it, both from India, given to me by K
- A blue glass spiral Christmas ornament, given to me by F
- A pin saying “Kind” that I got at a rally near work that I attended
- A pin that says “Obama” in Hebrew given to me by an old man in the supermarket near work
- A shiny gold metal card with Hindu prayers printed on it, given to me by an orange-clad monk near work
- A kaleidoscope with my company’s logo
It’s too painful to throw them away. Instead I will bring a shoe box to work and pack whatever fits. I’ll put it in the basement. One day, I’ll open the box and remember all the crazy times. I have half a mind to print out pictures of my favorite people from the intranet, because I won’t be able to remember later. But that seems too weird; almost obsessive.
In the end, I wasn’t too much of a wimp to quit and try something new. But I am too much of a wimp to tell the truth at the yet-to-be-scheduled exit interview. I’m not one to burn bridges. There would be no point in complaining about anything; nothing would change. Nothing ever changes there.