Hard to Move On

“It won’t be the same without you.” (Obviously.)  I never really know what to say to people when they leave the store.  Not customers, employees.  Whether they quit, transfer, or get termed.  Nothing ever feels quite right.

When they say, “I’ll miss you”, I just ask what they’ll do now.  I like to think they’re moving on to bigger, better things…even if they’re not.

Sometimes the store forces your hand.  You’re giving bad cards to play, so you fold.  You’re told another store needs a person in your position and, if you’re willing, you can go; but today’s your last day at your current store.  [And when that happens, you wonder if you’re working in a dictatorship, but have to calm yourself because you dislike normal politics, let alone workplace politics.  So you just inhale deeply a few times to calm yourself and forget that perhaps your job depends on how well you dance (which means I’m safe?).]

It all seems so arbitrary.

At the end of the holiday season, when all the seasonal staff return to their lives outside the toy store and they tell me it’s their last day, I say, “That’s nice.”  (They probably don’t appreciate that.)

But how do you tell someone you’ve worked with for a few years that the place will seem weird without them, even though they know the store will continue on and they’ll be replaced?  (You can’t replace a person [but you can replace a position].)

I guess everybody talks about moving on and finding something better (like doing what you love); but you never really think it’s going to happen.  It’s like one of the things we discuss to pass the time, not actually plan on happening.  Like winning the lottery or getting struck by lightning.  So, when it does happen, when someone does leave, it’s really weird.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Maybe I don’t like change.

Or people.

…I mean, people leaving.

Though some people, I wouldn’t mind leaving…I wouldn’t mind if they left.  I don’t know if I could leave people.  …Unless there was a zombie apocalypse and we were getting chased by a horde and you ran slower than me.  Or we were pirates.  Then, maybe.  Sorry.  I’d feel really guilty about it afterwards, though, promise.

In the end, I suppose all that’s left to say is, “I think I’ll miss you most of all, Scarecrow.”


About bkreuch

I like to read, I like to write, and I like to make people laugh.
This entry was posted in Humor and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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