TO HIDE A FEELING


Where do you put a feeling like ths?

It is your last day. They give cards for the birthdays of temps and take one week temps to farewell lunches. This is your last day at a place where you have worked intimately with people for ten months. And, yet, here you sit. You sit alone at a lunch counter looking down at a scrambled egg. You push the toast off the plate. You've been asked to go to lunch early to ensure coverage. It's not busy and you know the office never has coverage, but you agree and go.

You realize that you are either so insignificant to them that you don't matter or that they want to make you feel bad or that they simply no longer like you. You don't want to care, but you feel hurt. You feel insecure. You feel a bit like the first grader who got picked last to be on the kickball team. That stinging feeling comes to your eyes like it did on that fall day back in Texas. Just like your six year old self, you dig your toes into the souls of your shoes. You vow that you will not allow them to make you shed a single tear. To do so means that they have won some power play over you and that WILL NOT happen. You swallow that lump and remind yourself that you may be hurt but the ones who have hurt you do not need to know. There is a bit of a difference. This is a difference of which you feel rather proud. That little first grader made a vow to himself that he would never be last picked again. ...and, he wasn't. He found ways of fitting in, being accepted and even mildly popular.

But, today is different. Today -- you simply slip on a blank mask. A mask that will allow you to hide how you're feeling. A mask that allows you to smile and project a feeling of confidence and happiness to match the failed attempts to look sincere when they say goodbye as you take your final paycheck.

You leave the office for the last time smiling, but a part of you feels defeated, beaten-up and sad. You feel confused and angry. You return the goodbyes with mutual well wishings. You laugh as the one who really drove you away "jokes" to not let the door hit your ass to hard as you leave. You "joke" back that nothing taps you on this ass unless you want it too and that you can't wait for this door to give you a nice pat on the ass. An awkward shared laugh.

Sure. You wish him a "Merry Christmas" but inside your head there is an echo of that first grader screaming something far less friendly. And, you ache to pull the mask off and let them all know how they all backstab each other over and over again. None of them even realize it. You know that you could cut them off at the knees with a few sharp sentences. You've been trained by the best in Corporate HR Hell. You know how to do it.

But, no. You dig in your toes. It isn't worth it. You will not let them see that they hurt you.

As you walk home in the rain you come to that sad realization that sticks and stones may break bones, but words will cut you deeper than any break. You walk into your home and slip the horrible mask off and you wonder:

Who won?

You take a deep breath. You catch the scent of your lover. You look at the lights on the Christmas tree. You feel a sense of freedom. And, you know --- yeah, you did win. And, you think you might have even managed to win with a bit of dignity. ...Something that matters to you. You did nothing for which to feel ashamed. You were honest about why you quit and you never failed to do your job. You did it well.

You toss the mask in the garbage. You hope you will not need again but you're adult enough to know that you might.

So, now you close this chapter on your odd careers journey. You will begin a new one in the new year. But, for now, the focus is on enjoying the holiday. Free.