Tomorrow I Close One Chapter of My Crazy Life. What the Hell Comes Next?

Tomorrow is my last day or work.

After nine years.

And for probably the first time in my life, I am not sitting here wondering if I made the right decision.

Which is actually a little concerning.

Because I question everything.

Did I make the right decision?

Should I have waited?

Should I have had another job lined up?

Should I really be moving hundreds of miles away?

Should a 52-year-old woman be quitting her job, packing up her entire life, moving to Tennessee, and basically saying, Well, I guess we’ll see what happens?

Probably not.

But here we are.

And somehow, I know this was the right thing to do.

Was it a little crazy?

Absolutely.

Impulsive?

Maybe.

Terrifying?

Definitely.

But wrong?

No.

For the first time, I don't feel like I'm running away from something.

I feel like I'm walking toward whatever comes next.

Nine Years Is a Long Time

I've spent nine years with this company.

And when I think about those nine years, I don't think my biggest accomplishment was a promotion, a title, a paycheck, or anything that could ever be put on a résumé.

I'm proud of those things.

But I'm much more proud of the relationships I built along the way.

Because the people I worked with helped mold me into the person—and the leader—I am becoming.

Yes, I said becoming.

Apparently, at 52, I'm still growing up.

Who knew?

And I really hope that never stops.

I Learned What Kind of Leader I Wanted to Be

Over the years, I learned that I never wanted people to feel like they worked for me.

I wanted them to feel like they worked with me.

There's a difference.

People have lives outside of work.

They have kids.

Parents.

Bills.

Bad days.

Health problems.

Breakups.

Stress.

Things happening at home that nobody else knows about.

Sometimes the needs of the person standing in front of you matter just as much as the needs of the company.

Probably not something they'll teach you in every management seminar.

But it's something the people around me taught me.

Leadership isn't just telling people what needs to get done.

It's listening.

It's noticing when someone isn't themselves.

It's understanding that sometimes people need a little grace.

It's appreciating what people bring to the table instead of constantly pointing out what they don't.

And it's realizing that you don't build a team by telling everyone you're the leader.

You build a team when people know you're standing beside them.

They Taught Me More Than They Probably Know

I've worked with some amazing people over these nine years.

Some challenged me.

Some supported me.

Some drove me absolutely insane.

And I'm sure I returned the favor.

But every one of those relationships taught me something.

They taught me how a real team works.

They taught me how important it is to recognize the people who help you succeed.

Because nobody accomplishes anything completely on their own.

Anything I accomplished over those nine years happened because there were people beside me helping make it happen.

And I hope they know how much I appreciate that.

We Had a Lot of Fun

For all the serious stuff, the deadlines, the meetings, the problems we had to solve and the days when we probably all wanted to kill each other, we also had a lot of fun.

And apparently, giving me an idea was sometimes a terrible decision.

Like the time a coworker made the innocent mistake of saying he wished he could spend a day at the beach.

Most normal coworkers would say, Yeah, me too.

Not me.

He came into work the next morning to find his office filled with sand, a kiddie pool full of water, a palm tree, beach balls—the whole damn beach.

Be careful what you wish for around me.

I apparently take requests very seriously.

Then there was the time someone put on an alien mask, climbed onto a shelf in someone's office and waited.

Just waited.

Like a completely normal workplace.

Until the unsuspecting victim walked in and the alien jumped out.

The poor person dropped to the ground screaming,

“OH MY GOD!”

Was it professional?

Probably not.

Was it hilarious?

Absolutely.

Would HR recommend recreating it?

I'm guessing no.

But those are the things I'll remember.

Not the reports.

Not the meetings.

Not whatever emergency seemed like the end of the world on some random Tuesday.

I'll remember the people.

I'll remember laughing until we couldn't breathe.

I'll remember the stupid things we did that probably made absolutely no sense to anyone outside those walls.

And I'll remember that somewhere during those nine years, coworkers became people I genuinely cared about.

I Hope They Remember Me

Tomorrow, I'll walk out for the last time.

And I hope the people I've worked with remember me fondly.

I hope they remember that I cared.

I hope they remember that I tried to do the right thing.

I hope they remember that I believed in them.

And most importantly...

I hope they have some really funny stories about me.

Because let's be serious.

We all know I'm hilarious.

If people aren't still telling ridiculous Cyndee stories years from now, then what exactly have I been doing for the last nine years?

And Now I Get to Find Out What's Next

I don't know exactly what comes next.

That sentence would have terrified me a few months ago.

Now?

I'm kind of excited by it.

I'm leaving a job I've had for nine years.

I'm leaving New York after more than 30 years.

I'm moving to Tennessee.

I don't have every detail figured out.

Hell, I don't have anything figured out.

And for once, I don't think I need to.

Maybe that's the biggest thing I've learned through all of this.

Tomorrow, I close this chapter.

Not angry.

Not bitter.

Not wondering if I should have stayed.

I'm leaving proud of what I accomplished, grateful for the people who helped me get here, and curious about the woman I'm still becoming.

At 52.

Because apparently, I'm not done growing yet.

Thank God.

Because this would be a pretty boring blog if I had everything figured out already.

Tomorrow, I close one chapter.

And the next chapter begins...

Remmie, me, and a U-Haul headed to Tennessee.

No job.

No real plan.

Absolutely no idea what I'm doing.

What could possibly go wrong?

Less Stuff. Less Bullshit. More Life.