And admit that the waters around you have grown
Eight more sleeps. Subtract the weekend and "family day", and it's five more days. Five more days until the end of my gainful employment. Chapter two in my adult professional life closes, and chapter three begins.
And accept that soon you'll be drenched to the bone.
So, there it is. I have given my notice and decided to move on. For eight years now, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer, in good times and bad (and there have been both) the other "marriage" in my life has been to "the office". Good times too numerous to mention - my son was born the weekend before I was to start work at my "new job", way back in 2000. Like literally, that weekend. I had to call in sick for my first day of work on the new job - how's that for a beauty first impression? Never mind that his first words to me on the day I finally made it in were, "I've given my two weeks notice, now meet your new, new boss". Or how about dunk tanks at the company picnics, or various sordid Christmas parties, or the ever-famous November canoe trip. I can't even list the good people. There are too many - I'd fear beginning and offending someone by forgetting to mention them.
Bad times? Now why would you want to dwell on those? Let's just leave those sleeping dogs lie.
Well the order is rapidly changing...
In the last two days I've been asked more times than I can count, "why?" The short answer to that is this: sometimes in life, it's just time to move along. The longer answer is really just a variation of the shorter answer. Every road, every path, every way forward eventually ends. When that happens it's time to find another path and continue the journey. A lot of times the path is not completely direct, and certainly not four smooth paved lanes, but the journey continues nonetheless. This summer on one particularly questionable long bike ride I ended up turning off one of those four lane, paved routes onto what turned out to be an unpaved, bumpy dirt road. I remember thinking at the time that if I flatted out (may have only been carrying one spare that day) that I could conceivably never return to civilization. It occurred to me that if I was somewhere where I could get phone reception I still wouldn't have been able to call the rescue crew (i.e. the wife) and tell her where I was to come and get me. This is just a little like that. Another turn down a (maybe) bumpy road, looking for pavement.
The second most popular question in the last two days: "where are you going?" Just like that hardpack gravel road, I'll let you know when I get there. All I know is it's got to reach "pavement" at some point.
New page, new chapter. Tomorrow, we'll talk about training, and how all this connects to my old ball hockey team.
For the times, they are a-changing...
They most certainly are.
Peace.
1 comment:
I salute anyone who recognizes they want/need a change, but more importantly actually has the balls to do something about it. There are those who just think about changing and there are those who just 'do'. It take guts and courage to be a doer.
Here's to the future.
Cheers,
Darren
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