Here read the true tales of a young twenty-something cubicle dweller by day - dreamer of “there’s got to be more than this” by night - trying to find the moral of her everyday story. Walk with Jackie down cubicle lane every Wednesday as she humorously shares the pitfalls and high points of moving to a new city for her first job, building a life post 5 o’clock, and searching for meaning in every crevice of her stu-stu studio.

Dear Fellow Millennials,

I would have liked to close this series with a neatly-woven message about what I learned during the bumpy course of my first job and all the questions I found answers to. I would if I could, but I can’t. To be honest, I still live in the gray and wear a layer of confusion no matter the season.

I began my (beloved) relationship with Employee Evolution with a post paralleling dating and job interviewing. Dating can lead to a relationship, interviewing can lead to a job and the finality of both are things I (and I’m sure you) have dealt with. This whole series is going to come full circle. Can you stand the suspense? Get your beverage of choice, kids, because this is a long one.

Puppy Love Sans Heavy Petting

I met Danny in 7th grade, and he was the first guy I was really friends with. It started with a crush (mine on him). I initially wanted us to be a modern rendition of Romeo and Juliet, but it became clear (quickly) that we could only ever be Will and Grace (Will was gay if you didn’t watch the show). Always the late bloomer, my friendship with Danny allowed me to experience the emotional connection of a boyfriend without having to actually – you know – do stuff.

People said that we bickered like an old married couple, which I loved hearing, because it spoke to a closeness beyond its years in real time. I can remember coming home, storming up the stairs to my bedroom and my mom asking what was wrong.

“We had a fight.” It was the most serious relationship I never had.

Six years later, we were about to graduate from high school and were barely speaking. We grew apart (a general description for my first heartbreak), and the only thing left to do was say good-bye before heading off to different colleges.

As Danny walked me home on one of my last nights before morphing into a Gator, I felt him reach for my hand. I tried to hold back the tears, but when I saw that he was already crying, I made us a weepy duet. He said that ours was the good-bye he didn’t want to have. When we reached my house, we coupled crying with hugging. He silently told me everything I had wanted to hear.

My pseudo-romantic relationship with Danny prepared me for future adventures in dating and also primed me for the yet-to-occur love whammy – when I find someone I adore who doesn’t say (like Danny did), “Jack, get real. I’m physically repulsed by you.”

Two and ½ Weeks Nonsense

I spent the first week making procedural documents to ease the transition of my workload to the poor kids left behind. I felt a cold reception from many people after news of my resignation spread like wildfire (no joke). Maybe it was resentment, but nonetheless it hurt my feelings, which surprised me because I thought I had emotionally checked out long before.

Magnum couldn’t have been nicer to me, though. She cried a few more times, and I’d receive Instant Messages from her that read: (Fast forward to today when Magnum and I are both at new jobs and share a healthy friendship that includes occasional socializing – who would have thought?).

During my final week, I sat in a cubicle that became more barren by the day. I relished the feeling of throwing things away – training manuals, meeting minutes and the staff phone directory (reprinted monthly due to the high turnover – still gives me the giggles). My sentiment turned nostalgic when I removed thumbtacks from photos that reminded me of the fun I did have, like when I was part of a trio that won the company’s Halloween costume contest for dressing up as the cast of Three’s Company. I make one hell of a Chrissy Snow.

As I trained co-workers to do aspects of my job, I realized the magnitude of responsibilities I had juggled and how many skills I was leaving with. And while it wasn’t a job I enjoyed, I’m proud of myself for mastering something I cared nothing about. It gives me hope that when I do find my magnum opus, Latin for “great work,” I’ll have what it takes to hit a professional high-note.

I gave cards to managers I respected (and who could one day serve as references) and, in the rawest form of selflessness, offered all of my remaining office supplies to neighboring cubicle dwellers (sometimes you find strength you never knew existed). That reminds me; I’d be terribly remiss if I didn’t mention Neighbor, wouldn’t I?

In the time left, I tried to visit Neighbor in her cubicle as often as possible. She had work to do, so I was happy to just gaze at her while she responded to emails (fast forward to today when I delight in the too few times we see each other and remain forever grateful for the laughs and support of my corporate angel).

Hit the Road, Jack

On my last day, people warmed up a bit (maybe the office supplies mitigated their bitterness) to wish me good luck and offer the corporate yearbook version of “Have a good summer! Don’t ever change! K.I.T.” I did my exit interview and left through the revolving front door one final time. From there I went to a coffee shop for a frozen mocha likely as caloric as a milkshake. I sat there, sipped my tasty beverage and started to cry.

I had just gotten out of a situation I despised and instead of being overjoyed, I was overwhelmed by the thought of how drastically my life would soon change. I called my Dad, who has a magical way of appeasing me with, “Jackie, trust Daddy (why must the man always speak in third person?), everything will be okay.”

And it is.

Still Amused

I’ve been at my new job for almost five months, and it’s the complete opposite of my former position. Opposite doesn’t translate to perfect, though. Like my girl Emily D. also said, each day I “dwell in possibility.” I continue to have a wandering eye for graduate programs, alternative Peace Corps-esque experiences, and my career whammy. It’s got to be out there. Maybe it’s hiding with my love whammy?

Whether a relationship or a job (or a writing column) is ending, know that it’s not the actual goodbye that matters – it’s everything that happened beforehand which makes you think a goodbye should do justice to the story built over time. So, in this spirit, love someone the best way you know how to (even if it’s an unconventional relationship) and work well at whatever you do (no matter how much you dislike it), because both will teach you how to recognize who and what you want in this crazy life we try to navigate.

Thank you, [your first name], for joining me these past [any number up to 14] weeks and paying me the highest compliment by allowing me to become a part of the story of your life.

I leave you with one of my favorite quotes, ending this series in the way each muse has begun. When I read this quote, I feel less of the self-imposed weight I carry on my shoulders, knowing that when I’m ready my whammies will come. I hope yours do, too.

Until we muse again,
Jackie

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