Sayonara
It’s such a great feeling when you’re finally able to leave a job you’re not happy in. It’s liberating and you feel yourself bloom again with self-worth and pride.
And then the day comes when you actually have to leave. Your last week was hard enough with people scrambling to say goodbye and wish you well.
“How will I live without you?”
“I’ll miss you so much.”
“I promise to stay in touch.”
“Work will never be the same.”
And you’re filled with a myriad of emotions ranging from joy to total sadness because this is your work home and these people are your work family. The comfort that you’ve known for so long, even in a job you’ve disliked, is ending and you know you have this big adjustment period coming up at your new job or whatever your next life move entails.
It’s just so ironic to me how you want something so badly and you imagine yourself skipping out of the job, shouting, “Sayonara,” as you try not to flip everyone off. But then reality hits, and you’re feeling melancholy.
For me, leaving a job is the true definition of bittersweet. The rare time I didn’t feel that way was when I had to file skull caps for an offensive, creepy-ass boss and I barely lasted the day. Other than that, my heart has hurt and I’ve had to hold back tears, which I’m not good at.
When I retired, my last day was surreal. I left the office and felt teary, then got in my car and thought this is the last time I am driving out of here in a work capacity. My last ride home from a workday at this specific job after 16 years. My last job ever, and I wanted to sob, but it actually was a little anticlimactic. The biggest adjustment came after about two months when I realized I wasn’t on vacation and this was my life now.
So interestingly, the literal definition of the Japanese word “sayonara” is “if it is to be that way” and it usually signifies a permanent parting.
I’d love to hear any job farewell stories you’d like to share.