After almost 13 years of working at the same place, dealing with the same people, living the same culture, I was finally assigned to a different unit. It’s not really entirely a new unit for me since long long time ago I once also worked there part-timely for 2 years. And honestly, the place where I’ll be working is still at the same building only different floor. Still, the new assignment came as a shock for me. Not to mention it came to me in a short notice. Not to mention at the same time I was also preparing for my 3-month maternity leave, starting right then.
Later I found out I was not the only one who got new assignment. From the same office, there were 2 others in higher position than me who got to leave to a new place. From the whole organization, there were dozen of others, in the name of restructuring. Apparently, I was not the only one who was shocked by the new assignment. Don’t get me wrong. This assignment doesn’t bring harm to my career at all in any way. But when you were given a short-notice assignment after 13 years of service in one place, you couldn’t help being shocked. Plus, from the 3 people leaving, I am the only one with longer history in that place. And when I say history, I mean real history. So, there I was, on my last day, standing in front of my office room, closing the door while trying to inhale the last smell of the room, and thinking… I hadn’t said goodbye to my 13 years of history.
That evening, I walked out of the office compound feeling like I still owed a great deal of things to the history. I didn’t have a chance to say my gratitude, nor my apologies. I did come to some people I had been working closely enough to say my gratitude and my apologies. I also had a moment with my staff who acted like they wanted to glue me in my old room so I couldn’t leave, if they could. Still, it didn’t feel enough. And I knew, still know, why I felt that way…
There would be no farewell, let alone a party.
A friend told me bluntly people were glad with the movement in the office. They’d prefer the new authority than the current one. Some others told me honestly they couldn’t wait for the transfer of authority to happen. They had enough with the one they were dealing with. I shared the same opinion with them. I wounded from the same scars they had, but I was also leaving, together with the people they wanted to change so badly. It didn’t even cross their mind, though. Their scars were so deep that they didn’t want to give the pleasure of a closure to the people who would leave. My friends from 13 years of history didn’t mean to hurt me but their hatred for others made me invisible in their eyes.
So, there I was, forcing myself to walk away with sins I didn’t do but had to bear. If you ever be in a similar situation, I hope you’ll remember my story and remember to spare the feelings of the innocent one.