In a few days, I'll be saying my "official" goodbyes. The old boss is moving on, a new boss is moving in. I am saying so long to this building that is slowly losing the battle to termites, hello to the spanking new city hall. I am trading six years' worth of speeches and press releases for who knows how many years worth of personnel files, personnel actions, personnel conflicts.
Technically, it's not a change of career. I'd still be in the same office, doing the administrative job that I signed up for in the first place. But such is the way of the bureaucracy: along with the changing of the guards comes the cleaning of the house.
I should be no stranger to this. I've had ten bosses, all of whom taught me--in no uncertain terms--that change is inevitable. That change is always good.
And yet, as I sift through the accumulated paper and photographs and documented memories of the past six years, I find myself not hankering for change. I'm perfectly happy in the company of Asia and Helen and Papiyo. I'm okay working with Orly, John, Roel and the three Als.
For six years, our team tried to give a little sense of "urgency," a little zip to the workplace. We set and met deadlines. We went beyond the usual projects. We had more than the requisite eight-hour workday. And we were happy. Tired, yes. But happy just the same.
In a week's time, our little team will be taking on new and separate assignments. Asia goes to Environment, Orly and John go to Planning, Roel and Alvin go to Licensing, Papiyo goes back to Public Affairs, Helen and the two Als go someplace else. I end up in Health.
As a veteran of leave-takings, I know that it won't be long before we settle into our new assignments. But as I look at the things that have to be packed and the files that need to be sorted, I wish I won't have to start all over again.
Maybe, I am getting too old for this business of moving and moving on. No matter how good the prospects are.