I’m ending a 9.5 year relationship.

Like any relationship, this one had its ups and downs over the years. Some incredible highs and then some days when I thought, ‘why the @*#$ am I here?’ Over the years, my emotions shifted and right now it seems time to break it off, take a little time away to get some perspective, some distance.

This isn’t a bitter breakup. It’s actually rather kind and loving, as much as these things can be. There has been hugging. Some sad goodbyes.

Divorce is hard.

Oh, and I’m *definitely* going to miss getting paid.

Yup. After nine and a half years I am divorcing my job.

I realized the enormity of the relationship’s end last night on the phone with Ann. It was late – probably 11:30 p.m. I was nestled in my living room staring at a roaring fire, alternatively feeding it birch logs and then poking it with a metal rod while Ann and I laughed HARD about random hilariousness of this week’s follies. There were tears coming out of my eyes. Sometimes it’s like that with Ann.

As we were winding down I said, “Hey, do you have time for a quick work story?”

“Sure!” she said.

I made a mental note that I can’t really ‘say that’ anymore: a work story. I’m unemployed now.

I started relating a detail from an exchange with a coworker. I mean, former coworker. That led to a story about another coworker. I mean, former coworker. Somehow this led to my sharing my absolutely favorite moment with Dr. Allen, the company founder. As I was describing what the moment meant to me, how oddly gifted he can be with people, tears sprang to my eyes.

“That was a beautiful story.” Ann said softly and the blazing fire crackled in the background.

“Anyway.” I said, suddenly embarrassed that this much emotion had emerged in what was supposed to be a two-minute story. In fact, my “quick work story” turned into about seven or eight quick (and not-so-quick) anecdotes about leaving, saying goodbyes, who said what, etc. I hadn’t realized that more than a half-hour passed. It was after midnight.

I apologized again.

“No,” Ann said soberly. “This is important.”

When she and I got off the phone, I continued to stare into the flickering flames and it continued to dawn on me that this really *IS* important. Yes, it’s a big deal to leave a job where I have spent almost a decade.

For the past two weeks I have been regularly reminded of the societal impact of this.

Mom and Dad call every other day to inquire about the weather, the house, and then to slightly-too-casually ask, “So, have you found a new job? Any leads? What are you thinking about health insurance?” Bless them. I find it adorable that they’re in a near-panic regarding my being out of work. (I wonder if that makes me a sadist.)

A decade. I spent a decade of my life with these work people, this environment, waving my flag under this particular banner.

There are odd details I will miss. Ardelle’s greeting every morning and her razor sharp wit. Meeting Mary-Scott and Pete by the fridge after their smoke break. Microwave conversations that occur while leftovers slowly spin and warm. Shooting nerf blow-darts into the necks of colleagues. I mean, sure, I can assault friends with nerf darts, but it’s just not the same as nailing someone in a professional environment.

I will miss threatening (and being threatened by) my arch nemesis, Rekstad. I don’t think we remember why we’re arch nemesis anymore, but it’s good to have one. No really, it’s healthy. He once tried to get everyone to adopt a new nickname for me: Boog.

“Hey Boog!” he chirped every morning for two weeks. “Hey everybody, Boog’s here!”

Damn you, Rekstad.

During Cyndi’s first week on the job as our new Human Resources representative, Mary-Scott and I visited her office together.

“If I wanted to file a harassment claim against this woman,” I said, thumb jabbed towards Mary-Scott, “where would I find that paperwork?”

Mary-Scott scowled and didn’t give Cyndi a chance to reply. “I’d like to fill out my harassment claims about him online. That way I can just copy and paste for each subsequent new claim.”

Sometimes we are not entirely kind.

I will miss wandering over to Sam’s desk and standing in his space uncomfortably close to him until he finally turns around and says, “Do you actually want something or are you just trying to irritate me?” About 80% of the time I’m there exclusively to irritate him, so Sam shrugs and turns back to his monitor while I make snot noises and rifle through his desk drawers. Sometimes this works and he is enormously distracted. Sometimes it does not work.

You know…as I relieve some of these work vignettes, I’m wondering why they didn’t fire my sorry ass.

I suppose in every relationship you put up with the quirks (and borderline inappropriate behavior with clients) for the sparkling gold that you know is inside each other. You tap my gifts, my potential, and I’ll do my best to make you shine. These gifts emerge through shared experiences, a shared vision. We did some brilliant projects together.

When I applied to Allen Interactions, my soon-to-be-boss, Jason, mentioned Allen’s mission statement at the time: to enhance the human mind and spirit through wonderful, interactive multimedia.

“Seriously?” I asked with skepticism.

“Seriously.” he answered.

How could I resist a corporation that used the nebulous word “wonderful” in its mission statement?

So nine and a half years ago I shook hands with Jason and said, “I’ll give this a shot. But you better not be kidding about that mission statement. That would really piss me off.”

I was good for Allen Interactions. Allen Interactions was good for me.

Well-wishing friends keep saying, “Well, that’s over. What’s next?”

I don’t have an answer ready for that question.

For now, I think I’d like to breathe and watch the slowly dying embers in the fireplace.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 5th, 2008 at 11:07 am and is filed under Warrior. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.