Happy Path

End Script

I had a vision of myself on my last day of work. It was an image I held in my head of how it would look when I left 2201 triumphantly and of my own volition. It looked at lot like the end of The Breakfast Club. My exit from the building would mimic that moment when Bender, played by Judd Nelson, walks across the football field. As he passes under the goal post, he raises his fist in the air and the image freezes. Bender is an outcast, a misfit, a kid who doesn't do well in high school and doesn't belong in so many ways. And yet, during a day-long weekend detention, he found his place. More than that, he gained perspective on his classmates and recognized that they too sometimes felt awkward and alone at school. The diverse group had been thrown together as punishment, but what they actually got was an education.

I don't think I'd really contemplated Bender and his fellow students that deeply in the weeks leading up to the end of my contract. The image of the character with his fist raised was more visceral. It was a gesture of survival and triumph! Principal Vernon may have taken John Bender to task throughout the movie, but Bender still managed to come out on top. He could see a future beyond what his hard young life had set him up to experience. He had hope! Also, the idea of physically escaping a place that had conjured up feelings of dread and failure for almost a year was like leaving weekend detention. I would finally, at long last, be free.

It's not surprising that I mapped my image onto a classic John Hughes film, being a child of the '80s. I never passed up the chance to watch Sixteen Candles or Breakfast Club if I was flipping through channels on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The late director understood kids, and my generation, better than anyone else in film. He was a genius and I wanted to have what some of his characters had. Like Jake Ryan, the hunk from Sixteen Candles. As a teenager, I wanted my own version of Jake Ryan badly. Since my name was already Molly, I figured the chances of scoring a boy like Jake in my high school were pretty solid. If Molly Ringwald could do it, so could I!

The thing about movies is that they're not very much like reality—even a well-crafted John Hughes teen flick. I never had a Jake Ryan type make me a cake for my 16th birthday and I never had any bonding experiences in detention. Even with this realization, I was shocked at how unlike Bender I felt on my last day at the nerd farm. In so many ways, that Monday was anticlimactic. I didn't regret my decision to leave. On the contrary, I was anxious to have dominion over my days—I could hardly wait to dictate how I spent my time. There were personal goals I'd set for myself, like writing this book. And there was the exciting prospect of putting real time and effort toward finding a job that I liked, if not loved. For sure I'd been feeling a sense of impending freedom that prompted Charles to comment the week before that I was smiling so broadly, he could see all my teeth. Still, the day I left was...bittersweet?

Being a Monday, there were estimates to consolidate for the Estimation Council. As luck would have it, the council was even more of a dog's breakfast than usual. So instead of coasting on my last day and concentrating on saying goodbye to colleagues and gathering my few personal effects, I was actually working. Also, a number of team members came to me with rejected timesheets from the week before. It was another issue that needed attention. I started to feel sorry for my replacement.

Charles had sent out an invite for a farewell lunch on my last day. Actually, it was more of a hello/goodbye gathering with the awesome subject line of Passing the torch at Memories of Japan. I envisioned myself dressed as a geisha, shuffling across the restaurant with a flaming plate of sushi that I'd hand over symbolically to the new PCO. At first, I balked at the idea. An Irish goodbye was more my style. A long-time employee from our team who retired a few months after I started exited in a way I really admired. At the end of his last day, he came by my desk with his laptop and badge, told me "so long", gave me a high five and left the building. However, after several people asked whether there would be an official lunch or party, I acquiesced. Honestly, it was about feeding the team. My group, led by Charles, was extremely food motivated. Most often the first response to a meeting invite was Will there be food? In the end, it was a really nice turnout at the sushi place and I even gave a little speech. I refrained from using the phrases "nerd farm" and "held captive", respecting the fact that my experience at IT&S was unique to me and my background.