Today would be my last day at work. I had sought for my boss’ approval for handover yesterday and have said my goodbyes to him. ‘May we cross paths again in the future,’ I said, knowing that it is very likely I will see him around those exhibitions and whatnot. He smiled without saying a word and I got up and left.
A full ten months then, I have endured. And to not have anything much on my plate for the next two weeks feels liberating. I have grown too accustomed to traffic jams, to the movements of cars and lanes, which particular routes would be more faster, down to the very section of the road. I have become, in the very words of my brother, douchebag driver. But a two hours drive to get across Bangi to PJ has become too often that anything less than a hour’s drive is short and doable.
Resigning has, become much easier though. No tears were shed, no drama was necessary, unlike the first time I did it. Kak L, my former boss asked why I was crying when I handed her my resignation letter. “It feels a lot like leaving a relationship”. And so a month of crying ensued.
Here, you hear so much of people resigning that no celebrations or farewells were ever done anymore, except from the hushed hurried exchanges outside the office’s four ealls. Each month, two-three people will leave, another one would join in, and you just wish them their best before too, wish for an escape. ANY job outside would be bearable than this.
Colleagues come and go, and I know myself to keep them outside of my small circle, but I have grown attached to some, having the same solidarity in getting out. We had a room downstairs, ‘a lab’for the researchers, but mostly it was our hiding place from all the unpleasentries of the third floor.
But enough.
perkaraperkara 