Saying Goodbye!

(to my job)

Dear _________,

I hope this message finds you well. I hope you enjoyed your weekend! I am writing to inform you of my resignation from my position of ticketing and event manager at [literary nonprofit]. My last day will be this Friday.

Thank you for your support during our time together at [literary nonprofit].

Best,

Kelsey

*

Dear _________,

I hope you are enjoying your summer! Writing today to share that this Friday will be my last day as events manager at [literary nonprofit]. Thank you for your support for our programs over the past two years working together. Even in my most stressed out moments, you found a way to make it fun, and I really appreciate that.

Best,

Kelsey

*

Dear _________,

I hope you are enjoying your summer! I’m writing to let you know that I’ve accepted another position opportunity and my last day with [literary nonprofit] is tomorrow. Thank you for your ongoing dedication to this organization. I really enjoyed working with you the past year and look forward to seeing you at literary events, or around town. [Executive Director] will be in touch in the coming weeks about volunteering for our upcoming season.

Best,

Kelsey

---

I text you —

How many people do I need to email that I’m leaving? This is absurd.

I’m interested in the assumption that you would care. Like by getting this email, I assume you want to know. That my individuality contributes just as much to our shared success as my detailed itineraries and prompt email replies.

You wish me the best of luck and all the best. You tell me I’m a pleasure to work with. You say that you’ll miss me.

---

WHAT I’LL MISS

my parking pass, more than i care to admit; the museum security attendant who sits in a folding chair in the parking lot as i pull in, who tells me to HAVE A GREAT DAY as i walk by, and sometimes will say BE SURE TO STAY HYDRATED if he sees me swinging my water bottle; the glug glug glug of the water cooler, also Bennie who delivers our refills and collects our empty bottles; my GUY at the coffee shop with the glasses and the vocal fry who knows my order no matter when i was last in; answering the phone, specifically when someone is annoyed at first but before they hang up they ask me again for my name, they thank me again for my help; print ticket, tape, envelope, glue, stamp, repeat; monday outfits, cooing at each other as we provide the detailed history (including date of origin, method of acquisition, notable wears) of each item of clothing; the music i’ll never stop hearing; gambling our attendance numbers, always guessing the highest (bet on me); taking selfies in the bathroom mirror at the venue; our volunteers, i’ll miss them more than anything; but zadie smith’s shoes that i still think about daily; teeny martini mondays served with a side of hot fat fries after a twelve hour day; holding my breath from curtain to curtain; falling in love; getting hurt