And it’s time for me to roll on out of here. Wow. I’ve been with this company for years now – in fact, that was one of the reasons I accepted the job here, there were so many employees who were “long term” and I was looking for a career, not just a job.
Meanwhile, life moves on and change is inevitable. So I find myself suddenly back in the job market (a place I never honestly expected to be again) and getting ready to move to a new city, a new state.
I’ve done my job so well, so completely prepared for the transition that I actually have nothing to do today. I’ve done my part in training the replacement, all the odd little projects that normally fill my “tickler file” have long been completed and there is absolutely nothing resting in my “in basket” – that in itself is a miracle.
Here I sit, for the first time in years, with absolutely nothing to do. I have no work to catch up on, no “back burner projects” waiting for a slow day, and I’ve transferred everything else to the replacement (and I wish her the best of luck in keeping up with these guys.) My office has been cleared out for the old assistant to move into it, and the replacement has already been moved into her spot at the outer desks. I’m doing what little work I have from the swing station we reserve for visiting writers.
All of which is great – it means I’ve done my job. But, it’s also terrible because it means I’m left with nothing to do but sit and wait. Time drags, and there’s a constant flow of people passing me, all of them making their comments:
So, are you excited?
Only a few hours left.
Got a new job yet?
It’s your last day? Really?
And all I can think is all of this, the lack of anything to do, the temporary “office” space, the flow of casual comments, they all make this harder, longer, more painful.
It would be easier if I were busier, if there was the clutter and press of projects to be done, papers to file, stories to write – something, anything, to make time move along more quickly and to take away from the constant knowledge, the ever-present reminders that I’m leaving.
The beat goes on, the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da