Chapter 2: Breaking Up (with my career) is Hard To Do

You are simply not human (or at least not an employed human) if you don't have a secret fantasy scenario of how you might someday leave your job, and have that one big, spotlight moment as you toss off your building pass, and walk out the office door for that final time.

There's the tried and true "Take This Job and Shove It" move, which has the advantage of needing little advance planning, and is bound to be an instant classic with co-workers who may also hate their jobs. 

Glam it up a notch, and you can ride out in a Jon Bon Jovi "Blaze of Glory", which, while still burning every bridge you had to the organization, will happily involve multiple rounds of alcohol in the office kitchen nook, and a daring, swooping smooch with a Commissionaire whom you mistake for 1980's super model Kelly LeBrock. 

Others leave their jobs with confidence at a low ebb, and the tearful wail of "I'm Gonna Make You Love Me" daring the boss to finally recognize your value and beg you to stay (but the boss has skipped the farewell party, and sent an email with your name misspelled instead).

When you retire, though, there is no dramatic exit. No moment of comeuppance, flinging of government-issue iPhones or middle finger salutes. A retirement is gradual and patiently planned out. Above all, it is meant to be dignified. 

No, Jen, no! Put that flair back! As a retiree-in-waiting, you are now an esteemed Eminence Grise-roots of the department, graciously bestowing your unsolicited wisdom and witty anecdotes on the grateful masses. Until they can stand it no more. Then they have a little ceremony, toast you with tiny cups of LCBO's finest, and off you go, clutching your long-service award and whatever dry-erase markers were worth stealing from the supply room.  And yes, it is kind of dignified, in its way.

The fact is that, once you announce your retirement date, reality - or what you believed to be reality - does start to re-order itself around you, like an alternative Matrix where everyone wears sensible beige suits. Your perception of time and pressure starts to ease, while everyone around you remains in hyperdrive. They get blurry, and the precepts of their constant urgency make less and less sense. You become anachronistic to them, and to the organization, and then it is time to go. 

You can go angry, disappointed or resentful; but I think that, in the end, not that many actually do. I made a conscious decision a few years ago - when I really was mad and frustrated (a story for another time) - that this was not how I would end what has, in truth, been an extraordinary career. An extraordinary part of my life experience. And I won’t.

But I still want those kitchen drinks, and am definitely thinking about throwing the phone.

🏖🏖🏖