Sweet Goodbyes
“You’re leaving? We’ll miss you!” “You’re irreplaceable!” “Change is good!” We had some fun and got things done. It’s sad to say goodbye to a retiring colleague you’ve finally gotten used to and mostly liked. When they die, you won’t even know it. To sweeten the separation, we eat chocolate mousse cake, tiramisu and bagels.
One down. Those who remain will be understaffed and overworked, as we await the new hire, surrounded by a mixed bag of burnt-out colleagues, longing to follow the Pied Piper and quit, seriously thinking about the many good reasons to leave, and wondering if we’re suckers to stay.
When my dear colleague finally decided to jump ship, the rumors had been circulating for months. Soon, he’d be free of the day-to-day indignities, injustices and aggravations. Leave us, go ahead. We’ll celebrate and carry on. As a tribute to his accumulated kindnesses and hard work, we went all out for this guy, preparing a departmental farewell, a staff lunch, a group gift, a small group dinner and personalized gifts. Yes, goodbye will cost.
I was so stressed about getting the perfect personalized gift because I really couldn’t find exactly what I wanted. I don’t know if you’ve encountered the miraculous oxi-clean purse-sized spray? It breaks down all types of stains, immediately washing them off your clothes, within a minute, sometimes in seconds. Really amazing. It’s this tiny sprayer, which has the detergent already in it — so you spray, rub it in with your fingernail and then the stain is completely gone! Miraculously! Unfortunately, they no longer make this product. I know this because I’d already spent 6 months, or really 16 months, I’d say, searching every possible store, in my neighborhood.
I like saving stuff. So I keep this stain fighter in all my bags and drawers. People at work know they can come to me to rescue their clothes from ruin.
I can see this isn’t a glamorous gift. But I object to buying crappy stuff that no one needs. This particular colleague and I had many pleasant, bonding moments over stain removal. He’d start each day with good intentions, very put together, bow tie and all, but somehow, coffee, ink and salad dressing would find him. Then he’d come find me.
Someone suggested that, as his farewell group gift, we buy him a pen because he’s a pen collector. I’m thinking maybe he has enough pens. Also, I figure, if he likes pens so much, it’s not because someone else buys him a great pen…it’s probably because he likes to choose his special pens, selecting each one based on whatever it is that makes a pen special to him, as an educated pen collector. I’d guess he loves being personally involved in the pen picking process. He budgets for his treats, when he wants to indulge himself, and probably feels proud he can afford a rich man’s hobby. He’s the expert.
Loving pens is kind of a silly splurge — at least on some level he must know that. Maybe he thinks that with a great pen, he will take his time to be mindful, enjoy the writing process and write more carefully, maybe even write legibly, and his relationships with others will improve, because people will finally understand what the hell he’s writing. Listen, man — it’s not about the pen! Just slow down and write neatly, so others can read it, for life’s sake. Use a gel pen, which are my favorite pens and which I get, around the corner from home, for 2 bucks. Be practical! Or why not just use the fancy refillable pens you already have, and, then, maybe you could move on to some new interest, hmmm? Why box yourself into doing the same things you’ve done before? Isn’t the point of life and human relationships to do something new or learn something new, because of new associations with people and their ideas, to enrich your life? A new pen is nothing new. It’s the same old collection activity.
What makes more sense to me would be to encourage curiosity in something new. Let’s introduce him to biking, get him a bike! I love biking. Or start him gently with a book…maybe on biking. Gifts should be good for people. The problem is people can be very fussy about books. Some people don’t like to read outside of work, or don’t like novels, or serious novels, or anything that makes them think, at all. Thinking can be too easily confused with work. So what? Build up to it, man!
Well, no one agreed with me.
So, after much irritating discussion, in the end, for the group gift, we all pitched in to get him a pen. Luckily, we had a great shopper, with sophisticated taste, in charge of making the buy, and she found a fantastic going-out-of-business deal, for, believe it or not, a $300 pen that was on sale. And hey, this guy loved it! I don’t know if he loved it, he said he loved it. He commented on the beautiful decoration on the nib. It was very fancy. Look, a pen will not be the answer to anyone’s life but he did seem touched that we thought of him. I’m gonna miss him and his puppy-dog eyes, after lunch, pointing to his shirt, stained with coffee, salad dressing or ink from his very special pens. Who am I to say he shouldn’t love pens? Live and let live, you know? Vive la plume!
But that wasn’t the end of it. For the penultimate celebration, the small-group, semi-private super special farewell dinner, which would be just a handful of the core staff that worked the most closely with him, we had to pick a restaurant. Choosing a restaurant should be easy — piece of cake! Other than the yearly holiday party and office birthday celebrations, we’d never made any social plans together. So, ok, we’ll learn about each other. Well, come to find out, everyone has their preferences. It just shocks me how challenging other people can be, with each person’s special needs demanding consideration. Personally, I prefer the restaurant be within 2 blocks of my home, even if everybody else has to travel, but that’s because, honestly, I live in the best neighborhood in the city, not too far from work and right by the subway.
Why not help others learn to expand their cuisine to eat where and what I like? I suggested my favorite Japanese restaurant, around the corner from me, and immediately, we all get an email, from someone who could clearly benefit from some small portion, low fat, healthy Japanese cuisine, that she doesn’t like Japanese. Really, that’s too bad. It would be so good for you if you DID. Fine. Then someone else responds saying — that’s ok with her, and by the way, she’s had enough French food for a while. Alright. What even IS French food? Brioche, fondue, Napoleon — cheese and red wine? No loss. Was she just bragging about her classy taste? Then we’re all silent. I cheerfully suggested Mexican, which I love, and there happens to be a delightful spot, with healthy, whole wheat options, 2 blocks from my house, and Ms. I-don’t-like-Japanese says she really doesn’t like Mexican, either. Not this, not that — if everyone has endless veto power, we’ll never eat.
So I send one more venue option, working to keep it in my neighborhood, and suggest a place that never rushes you out, so it’s good for conversation, even though the food is kind of basic American — a cut above diner. Well, at least it’s affordable for those of us watching our savings bleed out from the enormous investment it takes to say a proper goodbye to a colleague.
We finally wound up eating at a trendy place with risotto, seafood and port wine, in the neighborhood, a 3-block hop from my home. It was a little pricier than I’d hoped, but hey, that’s the cost of workplace friendship, I guess. It takes money to honor someone and the work you’ve shared. For my personalized gift, I ended up giving him the new larger-sized version of oxi-clean, just privately, entre nous, which I know he really loved. I could see his briefcase bulging, as he walked out.
