I had this job at this place that I liked so much that I stayed for almost eight years.
Eight years may not be a lot to some of you, but I've always tended to live jobs in dog years, and thus there are number of one-to-two year jobs on my resume.
Eight, for me, is a very long time.
And I liked my job, and I adored and respected my boss and so many of my colleagues. But I have kids and I have a mom I'd like to spend more time with and so one day a couple months prior to my last day I told my boss that I needed to spend the bulk of my time working for much shorter and far less reasonable people.
(This had been in the works for quite some time. It's not like suddenly I was like, oh, I think I'll just step out of the paid workforce that I've been in for half my life. Cover me, would you, honey? And is the start of a whole nother topic or 37.)
All of this led me to my last day on my job and my goodbye happy hour. Actually, I had two Last Days. Because, gin. And fun friends. And lack of moderation.
And the fact that I really should drink alone.
I know this, and yet it's so much more fun to do out in public. With awesome people!
So. The Goodbye Happy Hour.
It started out all friendly professional drinksy. As the night wore on, the group whittle down to some of my closest people.
Ken! My dear friend and my New York work trip buddy! We've had hours and hours of conversation in transit, in train stations, out for dinners.
And here is Eric! My friend from the very beginning! And Kaysha! Who got me started reading Dooce and encouraged me to start blogging! In fact, thinking back, we had inappropriate conversations way back when.
And Jeanne! Makeup and pop-culture lady extraordinaire! We're slightly shiny happy people, but not yet nutso.
And here's where things start to get a little blurrier.
Look! We have mints! Awesome! Mints! Take a picture! We love mints!
Yah. I don't know either.
And then Eric, who doesn't drink much and offered to drive us both home, also offered to go up to our office and help me take my framed pictures down. Over eight years, I'd decorated a number of the walls. There was a lot of art to take home.
I was very grateful for the help getting them down and to my house. Since I walk to work or take the bus, I'd been planning to come down with my car another day and get help hauling them all down.
So there we were, at the office, collecting my art. Thank God, or rather Eric, that we all got home safely.
The next morning, when I got to my desk, I noticed that my trash can and recycling bin, among other things, were strewn about my cube. So weird.
Until Kaysha sent me the following. I have some vague recollection of thinking this was a good idea.
I mean, who leaves their job without taking CSI: Our Office photos?