I’m taking this job and shoving it, in the immortal words of Johnny Paycheck. Ok, so maybe they are not truly immortal words (I admit – I had to Google it.), but even if they’re not immortal – they are darn relevant since Friday was finally came. My last day on the bottom rung of the two-rung ladder I’ve been clinging to for the last 18 months (makes it more of a glorified step-stool, really . . .). The only thing left to do is make my proper goodbyes.
Adios to the Asinine
Look, I’m not naive. I know the new job will not be completely free of stress, pitfalls, shortcomings, annoyances, frenemies and foes. But I do believe it will be free of some of the aspects of my former job that made it almost, well, unworkable. Of course, this is a lifestyle blog not a Kitchen Confidential-style expose of any seedy underbelly. So I’ll go light on the details in the way Diet Coke is light on satisfaction – there won’t be any. Suffice it to say that where personalities may clash, impersonalities clash even harder.
Sayonara to the Starbucks
The old job is directly across the street from Starbucks. You don’t really even have to know me to know that fat-free-espresso frappucino is the lightning to my DeLorean’s flux capacitator. Since there is no Starbucks across the street form the new job, I may be lost without my daily frap, and I will certainly suffer a crippling withdrawal headache. But even more than the high-octane froth of my daily dose, I’ll miss my bestie baristas. The gang. The dawn patrol who – in the interest, I’m sure, of selling more coffee, bettering their brand, or just not getting fired – have committed mightily to memorizing my name and order, and even to occasionally indulging me with brazen booty kissing a la the sales staff under Edward’s watchful eye (or perhaps the limitless line of credit) in Pretty Woman. I’m sure they are all well aware that making me feel like anything other than Norm bellying up to the bar in Cheers would be a big mistake (“Big. Huge.“) since, when it comes to coffee, I’m spending on a level that’s “really obscene.” Nevertheless, I will still miss them – my cashiers, my blenders, my croissant toasters, my friends. So much that I’m already getting a headache.
Ciao to Co-workers
Even if my baristas don’t love me for me, I really am going to miss my co-workers. It has been a long, bumpy road to through late night projects, missed deadlines, and mind-numbing project meetings to friendship for some of us and it seems like just when we finally arrived here, I am going to leave. Luckily, some of us have transcended work-place approximated camaraderie and become real life actual friends. I am lucky, in that respect. Lucky to have worked with people I can not only tolerate, but actually respect. I am lucky to have worked with people who see humor in the humorless, who can shake off the intolerable, and who stare in face every day of indignities of every kind. I am lucky because I’d love it if life found a way for us to work together again, but I’m more lucky to just be able to call them for a beer.
And, at long last and in truly immortal words, the time has come for me to –