Today is technically my second-to-last day working at the magazine. When I’ve left previous jobs, it has been with a touch of sadness. Leaving the newspaper was particularly hard, mostly because I was, essentially, leaving Damian. But, oddly enough, I feel no remorse, no sadness, no attachment whatsoever to the magazine. I am happy to go. After two plus years as an administrative assistant, both at the magazine and at the newspaper, I have come to realize something: Being a mother to a child is a rewarding experience, as is caring for children, generally, but mothering other adults (as assistants often do)? Not so much. I am looking forward to being needed because my charges are truly helpless, not because they have learned to rely on me.
In memory of my short 4½ months at the magazine, I took some pictures of some of the things I disliked most about my job as reminders when I get frustrated on my new career path; the top three are my cubicle, my Mac, and the shipping table. It felt almost like espionage when I was snapping these shots. I waited until I was pretty much the last one there, because I didn’t want anyone to think I was nuts. You never know when screaming kids, diapers, runny noses, and the like will make me think I want to go back to admin work. Then, I can look at these pictures and remember why I switched careers in the first place.
So long, farewell, Auf wiedersehen, goodbye,
I leave and heave a sigh and say goodbye—