Yesterday, amidst the hacking and stuff, I got an email from work.
Announcing the newest partner promotions.
It was oddly emotional. A list I was supposed to be on. A list I will never be on, now. Forever relegated to that "other" list that won't be mentioned and will be filed in the circular file with the "Join us as we congratulate Mrs Chako on her great opportunity" memo.
The list was decidedly shorter than previous years'. And more of the promotions were in South and Central America, than here in the good old USA.
I congratulated one of our guys in Mexico, because it was the right thing to do. Although, he often comes to me for advice on technical questions . . . but then again, his Spanish is WAY better than mine.
One of the names was an acquaintance who worked here in Seattle with me for a while, and has really done a lot to deserve his promotion. Multiple transfers, including internationally, dragging a lovely wife and two sons in tow, suffering the indignities of the US firm having him work at a level below his normal level because "it will be easier that way". He's a truly, genuinely nice, hard-working man and I'm proud of him. And in true form, he responded immediately with gratitude to my congratulatory email.
A few other names I recognized. Only one promotion from our area in my service line. A guy I taught staff training with. Who didn't impress me then. Or now. I guess its a time and place kind of thing. And maybe the fact that you knew and worked with our area partner when he used to be the office managing partner helps? Who knows. I didn't send him an email. My mother said if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.
I know. I admit it. I had a moment of bitterness.
And now I feel a little guilty.
See, in a week and a half, I'll be starting a great new job in a great city, with my family 100% behind me. Here in Seattle, there are still really talented people who should have been partners or something equally as good still looking for jobs. And yesterday, one of our partners who is similarly impacted by the economy, had his 30+ year career boiled down into a tiny paragraph wishing him well as he explored this next "phase" of his career. The unemployed "phase".
In June I start my next phase, and I think it promises to be a pretty spectacular phase. Only time will tell. So I finished reading the list, and after I sent the last "congratulations" that was truly heartfelt, I deleted the email.
After next week, its going to be defunct anyway.
So today, the only self-pity I'm going to allow myself is the "why do I have to be sick on my day off" kind . . . because all the rest is pointless.
But thanks for allowing me my moment of weakness yesterday.
Respectfully submitted,
The Wife
3 comments:
Is this your subtle way of trying to tell us that you're human?
'Cause I see no issue what so ever, with the sound strategy taught to you by your dear Mom.
Silence can indeed speak volumes.
[verification = winesgood]
I can relate.
We both went into careers where you were "supposed" to think that making "that list" was the be-all-end-all. But I think we both know that there are a lot more important things in life.
But still . . . when you've spent such a significant portion of your life working toward making that list, how do you not view those years as wasted years?
We've been plugged into the Matrix, my dear. I'm out of it, and soon you will be too!
Free your mind :-) You have a new destination ahead of you and a supportive cast of family and friends. All will be just fabulous.
Especially if there are lots of new shoes!
In the Army, there is a tradition that when you leave, you're supposed to spraypaint "FTA!" on your combat boots, tie the laces together and fling them over the telephone wires next to the base. It's supposed to relieve all the bitterness.
I suggest you spraypaint "FPA!" on your 10-key and launch it through the window of your old office. You'll need a catapult, but I still have connections with the Army and could probably hook you up.
-The Husband
Post a Comment