Last Day at Work: The Long and Short of the Last Day in Office

I submitted my ID and I had to “tailgate” to make the final exit. I walked in the scorching sun to my car parked at a distance and took one picture on the way and one from the driving seat. I didn’t want to look like I was stopping by to take pictures; I convinced myself it’s the sun and not me before I steered clear off the gate to home from my workplace of the last five years.

It was my last coffee at Deli Marche – more than 90% of these words that you see next were written on the couch on my phone. It wasn’t long ago that I had my first thing here. I competed five years this year in February. I think I first came here last month - only after I had resigned. I never thought I had enough time or as they call it “bandwidth” to sit here and sip a cup of coffee.

The daud for office would begin with seeing Piku off to the bus and then leave for office, and I’d also try and come back by the time his bus came, which meant I left earlier from office. It didn’t matter that I came early because apparently this wasn’t doing any good to my “visibility” - another buzz word I hope I never use unless in jest or joke. I just wanted to be home, not too later than Piku’s arrival. When the talk on “visibility” grew more, I took my father’s help in picking him up and I added an hour to my stay at office.

The stay ended on Friday – for good.

I took longer than usual to get ready that day. I think I was giving myself a little more time. I looked a little longer in the mirror as if I were asking myself a question - has anything changed or is it all the same? I didn’t look much different, obviously, but I knew it’s not going to be the same after, even though I’d look the same. I’d not be going to work from the day after.

I left the house, I pressed the lift button, and I knew I’d forgotten something. It was the ID card and I couldn’t afford to miss it. Of all the days, I chose this day to miss my ID card - I could laugh it off because it was my last day and I didn’t mind when my partner said you could always come back to get it. I take comfort in hearing how I can never think. I have forgotten things in the past and I have come back to pick it up but never without frown or worry that I seem to embody all along. I have attached way too importance to these things and it’s a shame when this comes to my mind as some kind of achievement that I’ve never ever missed my ID card and I’d never had to get what they call the “TEMP ID”.

As I drove out, I dialed in to my partner like all those days in the past and now for one last time, on way to office. I’ve fought, argued, shouted – making use of the solo closed space inside the car on the driving seat to the fullest – listened, disconnected but always called back once I reached. The conversations with all the arguments started getting so interesting at one point that I thought there should be a series or a podcast or some documentation of all the gyaan we exchanged and it helped greatly that I was only listening – a gentle flex but I am good at that.

I took a turn and saw one grey Škoda squeeze away from my right. I swore and then moved on as I saw that car move away crazily and it struck me, he was probably having a bad day or maybe he wasn’t and he was just another guy thinking he could get away doing anything and it was the world’s responsibility to deal with it. Because the way he was moving, he could have probably messed someone else’s day and life. “The world is not going to change. It’s going to treat you all the same. Don’t think too much”, my partner said.

I was settled in my driving seat once again as I cruised to office and we spoke of all the ways we are going to beat the world – in zamaane ko dikhaana hai mode – at its own game when they ask me why I am not going to work and why this is okay. I have had only gentle and concerned enquiries so far but one should be prepared right?

I was one turn away to making an entry but the traffic. which was stuck just before the entry gate, looked like it wanted me to wait: just a little longer. I was in no rush - there is no love lost between me and my workplace but I carry and retain deep respect and admiration for all humans I have looked at from a distance - the parking and entrance support staff and the cafeteria folks, and all the non-living things too that support the structure - the cafe, the sofa, the lift and the steps, that I have always found encouraging and inviting.

I parked and as I was moving the steps to the 6th floor one more time, I came across a man I’ve often seen but never greeted. I have always found it weird to say hi or smile at someone passing by and it helps that no one expects you to do that and you don’t feel obliged to do so, like Americans do. It looks polite and it’s nice but I feel it adds more to the mechanical non-feeling way of the modern human. I need to have some interaction to be able to do that. And so, I passed that person one last time and I didn’t greet him and I continued stepping up until I reached the 6th floor.

I walked and I disappeared in the sea of empty desks and chairs to get to my chair and took the view in from the massive window pane. There were no takers for the spot at the time – not many people come on Friday around holidays.

I have very little to write about the time on the floor where I chatted indiscriminately with whoever was around and when I was done with those around, I got on the phone to talk to family and friends and said hello and bye to a few of the fewer people before the day was done and before stopping by – this felt forever – at the IT desk and heading out to hand over my ID card to get done with the exit formalities.