my replacement

So, I met my replacement on Friday. From former co-workers, I’d heard that she was nice, tended to be quiet, and seemed like another version of the editor and managing editor. (That last fact has the associate editor worried. She and I are not the quiet type. I didn’t end up fitting in with my editor. She fears a similar fate. I, though, believe my case was a unique one and she needn’t worry.)

So how did I meet Replacement? Well two of my ex-co-workers quit their jobs last week (GO TEAM!), and we all met up at a bar after work on Friday to say goodbye/celebrate/muorn.

I made a point of sitting down with Replacement and getting to know her. She is indeed sweet and soft spoken. And she is, as I was, in love with the office. Replacement was surprised I had left. I smiled my reply, dancing around the office politics of the true reason I’d made a change. She needn’t know all of the mess.

I explained my departure like this: This place was like my home. I was raised in this office. I began here as an intern. And after four years of nurturing, I found it was time to leave my co-workers—my parents and siblings—and spread my wings.

So, I like her, I approve. Replacement will fit in well on the staff. She told me I couldn’t have my old job back; she liked it too much. I didn’t have the heart to tell Replacement that I, of course, didn’t want the job back. I felt a little ache, remembering that love of work that I once held.