“We’ll miss you.”
Those words have been said around here a lot lately. Don’t think they mean anything.
It’s a reflex. Like saying “God bless you” when someone sneezes or “Fine” when someone asks “How are you?” When someone retires people say, “We’ll miss you.”
To be absolutely clear I, for one, will not miss you.
For 10 years you never hesitated to take credit for my work and the work my peers. For 10 years you never hesitated to publicly blame me for problems, many of which were beyond my control. For 10 years you made me feel small and ordinary and powerless.
For 10 years I did everything that was expected of me, without question or complaint, for fear that if I didn’t I might not get my teeny annual raise.
For 10 years you told me I could never be a leader because I am too nice.
Well, I’m not being nice anymore.
I wish I could be there to see your face when you get home with your commemorative coffee mug, gift certificate, and the card. Oh, the card.
I wish I could be there when you open that card, reading all the pleasantries that everyone has written. I wish I could be there when you look for my name to see what I wrote.
I wish I could be there to see you scanning the card for my name and not finding it.
Because it’s not there.
That’s right. I didn’t sign your card.
Signing your card was what was expected of me. That’s what you do when someone passes around a card for a birthday or retirement. You sign it.
Except I didn’t.
I decided that this time I wouldn’t do what was expected of me. I decided that you aren’t even worth the time it takes to sign my name.
* * * * *
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A related post in the non-fiction realm is It’s my last day of work, I’m crying and angry.
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