The Grand Exit

And the transition begins, one job for the other. I’ve made my grand exit from the former, reaching out individually to those I believed deserved the connection, and in a mass message at the end.

I have to admit, especially as tumultuous as work has been in the last days, the number of people that reached out to tell me that I would be missed. It is a nice sentiment. A nice thought. However, since I haven’t heard from either HR or IT regarding my exit, and received on the most performative best wishes from the director, my reasoning for leaving is validated. As my last week with the company is during my vacation, I can sit and relax for a minute. There are absolutely things I need to do, training I should get knocked under my belt and a ridiculous amount of dog fur I need to sweep up throughout the house, but today I’ve been content with chilling around the house, putting a few more plants in the ground and then watering what I could before the upcoming heat wave wilts everything in sight.

I believe the most telling part of the whole experience is that none of my managers have asked me where I’m going. A friend wondered if they were going to counter, but I pointed out that if they were never curious about where I was going to go, there was no way anyone was going to try and keep me. While that may be a little blow to the ego, at the same time, it really is just a balm that I’ve made the right decision.

So for my vacation I will only work the one job, working to get the little things done that I’ve let slip, refocus on relearning some other systems and determine how I’m going to juggle everything.

That may be more of a task than I’m making it out to be.

Bear continues to settle in. We’ve passed the three month mark so now I’m thinking I’m getting more of his true personality.

What is the dog equivalent of ‘feed me tacos and tell me I’m pretty’? Cause I’m pretty sure that is what his is. Also, I’m beginning to wonder if his nose actually works as he will bypass perfectly good food in his bowl, looking for an elusive piece he may or may not have left under a far corner in the living room.

I do not understand this dog.

Seven toys in the living room, stuffed animal guts hanging out the side of his mouth and he abandons his latest terrified stuffed squirrel to grab my shoe and triumphantly trot into the living room. I feel like I’ve made my opinions known on whether or not to chew on shoes. It is not. And yet.

Meanwhile, he would be perfectly happy if we hung out outside, happy to be by my side, but if we are inside, he is up and down, unable to settle into the house. And I would be happy to work outside. Except, you know, bugs and heat. So either he needs to find a happy place inside, or I will need to invest in a large umbrella. I’m fairly certain I’m going to be the one to cave.

Maybe.