My Last Wednesday at the Company, and Daffodils

Today was a little better.

I am writing up my teammates' last performance reviews, and I dislike the task. While there are plenty of agreeable things to say, I don't like being the 'voice of God,' judging the hard work of teammates and pointing out where they have not sufficiently set aside their personal struggles to deliver value to the company. Besides I want to start off everyone on an ideal footing with the new manager. And the performance reviews were a strong motive for me to leave the company anyway, because superimposed on every review I envision the faint outline of each teammate with a little dagger embedded in their back: in other words, it offends my sense of loyalty to my teammates. But the good thing is that it'll be over soon, at least for me.

That said, I was not feeling very well this morning. In the past weeks I've become disconcertingly woozy, short of breath, sleepy, and random other things at different points in the working day. Generally the source of the outbreak can be traced back to my work laptop and the stresses of the day, so at least there's no magic mystery there. This morning I was getting out of bed when I realized that my legs felt quite limp and heavy, thought 'I'm making a big mistake,' and felt like staying there and having a nice nap.

This is the usual drama-queen/lack-of-common-sense Venn diagram overlap where I'm thinking that while events make for a self-pitying blog post, maybe it would be wiser to make sure I don't have stuff like this to mention. Colleagues from the top management level through to anyone in my team would point out that maybe I should skip out the door faster or just take a sick day.

But... at this point there are only 16 working hours left and on Friday it'll probably be half that, so 12. In the interests of not having a weird reversal of expectations, I'd rather be working. What does make me feel bad is that given my physical state there was absolutely no way I wanted to cycle for 50 minutes to the office, even if people were hoping I'd show up at various points this week so we could say our goodbyes.

One meeting had a rather friendly outcome: I was flattered that my American manager said (in a hopeful tone) that the door was wide open if I'd like to re-join the company. It felt like a very concrete sign of professional approval. We also talked about forest fires on the Pacific Northwest coast, as a non-work-related topic that selfishly felt lighter to me.

That said, while I might rejoin the computer science field in a lower-stakes environment, the whole 'large stock-listed employer' phase of my life is definitely over, for the sakes both of sanity and of idealism.

In the evening, once the meetings were done, I had a lie-down. J. knocked at the door to kindly deliver a cup of coffee, however, so I decided to chat instead of nap. He told me that my pose reminded him of William Holden's character in Sabrina, during the inglorious recovery from the champagne glass incident.

Non-work things:

1. I'm watching the Canada Reads book competition.

2. On the piano, I'm playing a Bach cantata arranged by the German pianist Wilhelm Kempff. It's rather brooding and religious, but also satisfyingly straightforward and atmospheric. It was part of a Dussmann shopping spree after I made the fateful decision to change careers this year.

3. For lunch I cooked again: a type of failed egg foo yung with eggs, rice, green peas, and an onion.

4. Spring has sprung even more: Daffodils, the early tulips, an entire tree bedecked with tiny green leaves, crocuses even overblown, springy hyacinths. And the grocery store across the street had bundles of boxwood twigs, and bundles of forsythia branches, in the fruit and vegetable section.

5. For Friday, I've already bought vegan snacks to ensure that no one needs to be hungry at the team farewell party. Next up: Drinks, and on the day of, I'm hoping to put together a nice Italian cheese platter and to get cake. I think I'm still too exhausted to bake cake myself.

6. A job application to be social media coordinator for a non-governmental organization here in Berlin is pending.

7. I don't think I've mentioned on this blog yet that I'm hoping to freelance report on the Special Olympics Summer Games in Berlin this June. The ticket is purchased! Because I am not familiar with reporting on sports, or interviewing athletes and coaches, I've decided not to aim for a press pass.

Two Pleasant Goodbyes ... and Awkwardness!

Today I slept a lot during the daytime. I have still been stress-sleeping (i.e. still worrying about things while I'm sleeping), and because I over-ate a bit had a few nightmares, so it wasn't perfectly restful.

But in the morning we all went as a family to vote in the referendum about strengthening Berlin's climate neutrality commitments and advancing the deadline for meeting these commitments to the year 2030 instead of 2045. Afterward we went for ice cream: I had a waffle cone with a scoop each of lemon gelato and yoghurt-cherry gelato.

Last Thursday I had a goodbye event with the colleagues who speak to our clients and then let us know what they need from us, and vice versa. We ate cake together quietly in the office dining area, and we exchanged presents and chatted. The fudge that they gave me is all eaten up now, but there's still a pretty bouquet with eucalyptus, a sunset-coloured chrysanthemum, pink baby's breath and other flowers in it on the windowsill in the kitchen.

On Friday, we had a scheduled question & answer session about the many colleagues departing the company, with two higher-up managers. We had a few technical issues and started late, and the team also didn't submit any questions. So I moderated the discussion and asked the questions that I thought might be on my team's minds. It was extremely tough.

I was quite tired of euphemistic, official explanations of why x or y colleague had left. These always gloss over the severe mental health problems that working in our company in its current state has caused for at least three people I know of, plus self-reported exhaustion of five or more further colleagues.

The official explanations also never acknowledge that not everyone can skip from one job to the next. I decided not to mention this during the meeting, but in my early 20s I was suicidal for several months because of the strain of unemployment. I definitely did not hop out of this job lightly. What I also didn't mention is the impact on family and friends of someone being dissatisfied with their jobs or jobless: I remember whenever my father left a job because he couldn't stand it there any more; it was so bad to witness as a little girl who was fond of him, that I realized as an adult that I had absorbed a deeply fearful mindset about jobs in general. And I've also been worrying constantly about friends who have been pushed out of the company purposely or through the force of their own annoyance, who haven't found new jobs yet.

So I took the risk of sounding a little insane. I introduced the session by saying that job dissatisfaction and unemployment are closely linked to people's sense of self-worth, and that unemployment can lead to suicidalism, drug and alcohol abuse, domestic abuse, as well as loss of residency and broken relationships for people who are not EU citizens. In short, we were talking about serious issues here. My voice was all shaky, the acoustics weren't working well in the room, and it was deeply embarrassing. Besides I'd happily repressed my unemployment years and was feeling a bit shaken by the resurgent memories lately, although I've been putting a cheeky and happy public face on my new employment liberty. But at the same time I felt that, although I needed to avoid putting emotional pressure on managers who are already under pressure, it was important that I loyally represent the colleagues who had left, and also respect the truth.

Then I invited teammates to mention colleagues who'd left whom they'd personally known, while acknowledging that for some of us we didn't know them that well and that I wished to represent both perspectives. Crickets. So I mentioned four colleagues myself and gave a brief tribute to each, and then suggested that we concentrate on discussing the case where three colleagues left from the same team.

Fortunately, the managers did not seem angry or upset at me for the way I started the conversation. (I was also scared of risking our friendly relationship.) In their answers, they respected the privacy of departing colleagues while explaining fairly accurately why these colleagues departed.

The managers also frankly addressed my next question: for any of my teammates who might depart in future, would it be possible that their work messenger accounts would just be deactivated from one day to the next, without any goodbye email or announcement beforehand? (The answer was, highly unlikely; this is done in other parts of the company, certainly, but they don't like the practice and aren't involved in it except for colleagues who asked to leave quietly.)

Then 25 minutes were up. I thanked the managers for appearing in the call and answering the questions, and then I opened up the floor to any more questions for the remaining 5 minutes. There were none, except a bit of pleasant banter, which indicated some emotional catharsis.

Afterward, three of us teammates and one of the managers went out to a Vietnamese restaurant and then to a bar, and chatted about work and plans for the future. It was candid and friendly. It also was a little sad because, had the team been able to speak directly to the manager all along, I think that developments might have been better. I'm rarely taken seriously when I try to present summary of the spectrum of views across the team; but one-to-one conversations with teammates seem to carry conviction.

But while it's a glib joke to make, it feels like many (not all) of us are living in a Hieronymus Bosch painting, while the management sees Thomas Kinkade.

I know that taking risks is good for the character; but I absolutely hate it, especially as I'm a natural lily-livered coward and am practically drowning in vulnerability and fear beforehand. It's not much comfort if colleagues call me brave. In the end it feels egotistical: I'm just making everyone uncomfortable because I'm weirdly determined to carry out an inconvenient impulse and foist it on everyone else.

Spring Flowers, Journalistic Inquiries, and Workplace Diplomacy

It turns out that leaving a company is more awkward than expected... The paperwork, so far fine. Saying goodbye to colleagues individually, even a nice opportunity to chat with them again after a long time. Looking forward to hopefully seeing teammates quite as well outside of work, comforting. Thinking of everything needed before I leave, fine because I left myself quite a bit of time to jot down and remember things as different tasks etc. arise.

But on Friday and Monday I engaged in single combat with higher-ups about something... It ended amicably enough, and I wasn't kicked out of my email and messenger accounts as I thought I would be. There is a nice surprise that the former managing director had thought up as a farewell gesture, which I won't spill the beans on until it's formally announced tomorrow.

But everything else was stressful. I ended the day with a tension headache, and I woke up this morning knowing that I was in no shape to work. I applied for a sick day.

I feel guilty about planning to go to choir practice after a sick day. But I think it will distract me enough to pull myself together for the last week and a half on the job. Also, it's not very far away so I won't need to worry about swooning off my bicycle. (I was wondering if walking might be wiser.)

When I stepped out the apartment door to get the obligatory Covid test (obligatory if I want to attend choir practice, that is) at the pharmacy down the street, I did find that my anxiety was so severe that I could barely walk at first. Which at least confirmed, if confirmation were needed, that I hadn't been malingering.

Anyway, the daffodils are out, hyacinths too to a lesser degree, and the earliest red-and-yellow tulips are already in flower.

I've been quite busy after working hours and during the sick day. Today I made the payment for my card to guest audit courses at university until I can formally apply to become a student again for the Fall/Winter semester.

Yesterday evening I sent off an inquiry to see if a Canadian newspaper would be interested in printing articles that I'd write about an international sporting event that'll be happening in summer in Berlin.

In between, I'm further researching a World War I book, refreshing my Greek, playing the piano again, doing volunteer proofreading for a non-profit website, and practicing typewriting. And I lay down for a while, and chatted with the brothers and Mama.

And, after a months-long lull in baking and cooking, I boiled eggs *and* made myself a pot of tea *and* made porridge for lunch.

In the past weeks I've felt really bad about 'abandoning' colleagues and worried about their wellbeing. But in other ways, leaving this job and having a chance at a regular, healthy life again is... not tough at all, to be honest.

"It'll be over in 1.5 weeks anyway!" is one thought that's inspired me deeply. But I've also come across a Bible quotation [Disclaimer: No conversion or evangelism of any sort is intended] that I'm hoping will be a helpful motto whenever I feel overwhelmed at the thought of trying to sort out the interpersonal mess at work: "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."

The Decline and (Hopefully Not) Fall of the Roman Empire

Last week was a little heavy again.

*

On Tuesday, three goodbye emails arrived in the course of the day, explaining to us that three members of the same team were marking their last hours in the company.

I'd written a note to the product owner of another team, wanting to tell her goodbye because of my own departure. She wrote back that morning saying that she'd be leaving in a couple of hours and that we should chat on LinkedIn instead. (Which I did.)

One of the emails was written by a Russian colleague, and I think Russians generally have a gift for making everything sound ironical. But I think he was being sincere and not sarcastic when he quoted Monty Python in his last line: "Always look on the bright side of life."

*

We were stunned by the mass departures — although I always feel hypocritical because I too am rushing for the exit. I've never watched Game of Thrones, but it felt a little like the Red Wedding. Tuesday was weird altogether.

That evening I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to choir practice, because the day had knocked the stuffing out of me. But if I make excuses now, I thought, it's setting a bad precedent and it'll only go downhill from there.

So I cycled off, and found that I'd made the right decision. It is very wholesome and healing to sing "Dancing Queen" by Abba with people who adore it. And even the "Im Walde" by Schumann that had depressed the hell out of the choir when our choir director made us rehearse it on Valentine's Day (of all days) — it's a foreboding song about a forced marriage in a German forest — has very pleasant harmonies.

***

Back to work:

On Wednesday, perhaps, M. wrote in the team chat in the morning:

'Nobody has left the company yet.'

Another teammate:

'Give it a couple of hours.'

I wrote that it felt likelier that people would leave the company at the end of a month, like on February 28th, rather than at the beginning of a new one. But that I didn't want to jinx it.

Within a couple of hours, we received an email from a Front End developer who was working his last day.

A third teammate went back and found our conversation again, and bluntly added underneath the thread, 'This conversation hasn't aged well.'

***

On Thursday, two other former colleagues (not amongst the five whom I already mentioned above) had organized goodbye drinks at a bar that was perhaps twenty or thirty minutes from the office. It was after 8 p.m. when I arrived.

One of the colleagues whom we were saying goodbye to was standing outside, smoking a cigarette with a circle of other colleagues. The circle included our managing director (who, clearly hungry, was wolfing down a healthy-looking thin-crust pizza). I thought there'd be food within, but in retrospect he probably took it along from the office.

I gave her a hug, not dissolving into tears and sobbing all over her as I'd kind of feared before heading to the bar, then headed in.

*

Tumbled in a cozy, barely lighted room — blue velvet banquettes and footstools, and exposed brick walls behind heating coils — were colleagues, puffer jackets, various other appurtenances; and coffee tables, topped with metal tumblers filled with pretzel sticks, tea lights, and lots of drink glasses. A few coasters were outnumbered by the condensation rings on the table surfaces.

I went to order a cocktail, and then began to wake up out of my work-related apathy and begin to chat.

It felt awkward at first that part of the room knew I was leaving, and part of it didn't.

But I had a lively conversation about scientific biographies and politics with a colleague, then when they went out to smoke, a colleague leaned forward and asked me about my studies.

Another colleague listened to us for a while, then asked with energy, "You're quitting? ... Congratulations!!"

We didn't just talk about controversial subjects, but also about vacations, cycling, electric scooters, and how diligent or not we'd been at university the first time around.

*

I also half-eavesdropped on another conversation.

'I know of three more people who are leaving the company,' a colleague was saying.

'Oh, I know of two,' said another. '... This is awkward. I don't know if we're thinking of the same people.'

The first colleague proposed something — maybe that the people leaving just want to move on to other projects — and the second insisted, 'No, it's burnout. It's burnout.'

*

The ex-colleague who'd gone out for a smoke came back in.

I'd worried that it would be tactless to wear a hoodie with the old company logo to the event. So I was wearing a different one. It turned out that there was no need to worry.

She'd laid off her coat, to reveal that she was wearing a sweatshirt branded with the logo of our parent company... the one that had unceremoniously fired her. I chuckled inwardly at her bravado, and the phrase 'Augmented Reality' on the hoodie, but said nothing.

Eventually she asked me whether I was taking all my vacation days. I answered hesitatingly, 'Well... there's not much purpose now. I'll be leaving at the end of March.'

Like one or two other colleagues, her mouth dropped open. Then she closed it and asked whether this was a happy or a sad thing.

'Well, I had a lot of stress for a while. But now that I've made the decision I feel like I'm ... blossoming.'

Then the conversation became fairly normal again.

*

Long after 10 p.m., I went outdoors again and said my goodbyes to the former colleague. She gave me a long, long hug and told me that I'd given a lot to the company. — Which amazed me, as I'd spent at least a year or two being a thorn in her side, even if we'd cleared the air and gotten along very well later. — One of the higher-up colleagues was looking a little anxiously at us, so I wondered what was going on. Maybe I'll investigate next week.

The second colleague and I had also had the chance to say goodbye before, and he'd been highly concentrated speaking to other colleagues. But as I started to walk off homeward alongside T., he exclaimed, 'Don't be like that!', and came over for a hug and for another goodbye.

*

I was happy that I'd come, but I can hardly emphasize enough how weird it is to work at my company right now. I've been with it for almost seven years and have never seen a situation anywhere near this one.

***

On Friday I sent around another spate of goodbye messages.

One of them could not be sent because the work account of the recipient had been deactivated. I asked three colleagues who'd been working more closely with the recipient than I had, if he'd indeed left; they'd had no idea of his departure but in the end no further confirmation was needed anyway, as the evidence was strong enough.