I feel like George Costanza. I was half expecting to walk into work this morning, and find out that they moved my desk to the cellar, and I’d have to crawl through the vent to get there.
Let me backtrack. I put in notice to quit my job yesterday. Three weeks notice- a week longer than most people give. Apparently, they were so shocked at my decision, they took it personally, and now I’m the most hated man here. In fact, they are giving me the silent treatment. Like a child would, if you told him 3 scoops of ice cream is enough, but he wanted more.
Quitting a job is really like breaking up with someone. When you first start out, you don’t show them the “real” you until your comfortable. Before you know it, you’re in this long term relationship with each other, you see each other first thing in the morning, you share meals together, you move some of your stuff in for easy access. You go along, content with your weekly paycheck…Then, things turn south. You realize you’re unhappy, communication breaks down, and it’s a mess.
Then…the decision is made. You know it’s over, it’s just a matter of breaking it off. Could they really be this blindsided? They have to know it’s not working. Things feel different. You dread seeing them every single day, and you’re not talking about it. You talk to friends for advice, but it appears you already made your decision, and there’s no repairing this relationship, you just need to get out, and get out now. Quick like a Band-Aid.
Then, finally, you tell them you need to go your separate ways, which really is for the best. And, like a divorce, you don’t immediately get rid of them right away. You have to see them, just as you’ve been seeing them, for a few more weeks. Only, things are completely different now. They thought you were going to grow old together, and you know it’s awkward when they bump into you while you’re microwaving a burrito for lunch.
As you walk around the once stable office, doors are now closed, people behind them weeping at your departure. They have secret meetings about finding someone new, who can give them those grandkids they always wanted that you never delivered. They don’t know how to act around you anymore. You still know a lot of the same people, and though you don’t say it, you know they are all going to choose sides.
Finally, you have to turn in your keys to the executive bathroom. (Good thing they don’t know that you made a copy.) Maybe you’ll run into them on the street one day, and they’ll look at you and remember when you were together. Maybe they’ll avoid eye contact, cause it’s just too painful.
Just remember this. Jobs come and go. But Nintendo is forever.