A FOND FAREWELL - a few short weeks later...

Aside from childbirth (which I will never personally experience), I would venture to say there is probably nothing more stressful than moving. It’s a strange dynamic: you actually TOUCH everything you own. You make a decision about it, decide its value, recall what it means, give it its due…and choose if it comes with you or not. The upcoming weeks were spent with many of those confrontational moments. “Should I stay or should I go now” was a recurring musical underscore for my life as I wrestled with what was most precious to me. Sixteen bags of trash later; I realized how much of a pack rat I really am, but also, how much I have been given in life.
I was struck, too, by how equally I was able to fill up sixteen boxes to take with me. Getting them down four flights of steps to the pod was another matter, but I digress.
My office, which once was a centralized haven of sorts, my home away from home, had slowly started to become a barren, bare, butter-painted shell of what it used to be; the fluorescent lights only further enhanced its bleakness. I had not realized how much I had filled it with comfort, nor how that comfort toned down its starkness. It was now up to my successor to make it her own; she was reluctant to hang anything upon the walls while I was still there…but I know she has plans to fill it out on her own terms. As well she should.
Christine and I spent a very long two weeks with each other, offering an opportunity to drain my brain of six years of history at The Grand. It is my hope, wish and prayer that she will never try to replace me; that is not going to be her job. Her job will be to keep The Grand going strong, and to honor that commitment. She is a dependable and organized and efficient woman with tremendous social skills and strengths I don’t possess; I am wishing her the best of luck. May The Grand be as loyal to her as it has been to me. And I certainly hope she appreciates having that little bit of time together to get up to speed; it is a rare occasion that anyone gets to spend time with their predecessor “training.” I certainly am not going to have the chance; I’m going in blind.
My last day at The Grand was supposed to be uneventful; I expected to have a little bit of time off before I left, and knew that my upcoming Farewell was forthcoming. In true Grand Style, there was a last minute pizza lunch in the back hall, and I was very pleasantly surprised to see the entire staff in attendance…a “best wishes” cake with California-shaped icing was the topper, complete with little flag posted in the Ventura region. The flag itself was a picture of my trademark photo: a pix of me bussing tables at our Grand Preview Party. It looks like I’m about to down three martinis, but it was actually risotto crab dip that I was clearing from tables. The quote to the photo is essentially, “Yes. It IS my job.” Meaning, yes, folks, do whatever it takes to get the job done; the first, and most important lesson I ever learned at The Grand.
It was nice to have that special time with the staff. When Melissa thought the cake I had cut smelled funny, I was fool enough to sniff it, at which point she promptly smashed it in my face…there’s probably a photo lingering around somewhere now to replace my previous signature pix. She got me, and I suppose, it was rather well deserved; who hasn’t wanted to smash a cake in someone’s face??
I was teary-eyed as I sent my farewell letter to The Board; they are wonderful people with tremendous heart; and they care for The Grand greatly. They will be sorely missed by me.
I had finalized as many matters with Christine as humanly possible, knowing she and I will have to have a few email chats on processes we could not tend to. The Grand Gala was the next night, and remarkably, The Grand was calm. It was the quiet before the storm; this was the norm for the day before Gala. The Development Department had their best game face on. It was not a “crazy event planner” face, but one of “here we go.”
I was about to finally say farewell to The Grand in tuxedo style. Not a bad way to go, eh?