Not the new girl

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“How did I get here?”

I’ve asked myself this question a thousand times and just like every time, I remember the answer now, too: I got here after I sent my resume and that’s how I got selected for this job.

‘Trainee sub-editor’ — that’s what I was hired as. Fun fact: My id card, even after four years and nine months reads the same. That brings me to the next point — it has been four years and nine months since I joined this newspaper organisation!

“Four years and nine months is a long time,” I told myself. “Babies are born and they grow, well, four years and nine months older. Sigh. People fall in and out of love, people move away, get sad and get happy. Some get strong, some get weak,” I added trying to convince myself.

So, a few weeks ago, I took twenty deep breaths before I could press the ‘send’ button (on an email informing my bosses of my resignation). When twenty didn’t work, I took seven more and pressed the damn button. The ‘Undo’ option kept blinking at me, but this time I knew better than ‘undoing’ it.

After 41,610 hours spent  chasing deadlines — well, not all the hours were spent doing that… but most of them were — I turned the sand timer upside down and finally quit my first job.

I felt all sorts of emotions: regret, anger, annoyance and sadness… deep sadness. I couldn’t believe that what I have been doing since the last few years will all come to an end in the next  few days.

So even though I prepare myself, to say good bye to the job I loved a lot, I know this:
After chasing deadlines for “four years and nine months”… I chase no more.
At least for now.

2 thoughts on “Not the new girl

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