[the first working day of the year is also my last day of work, after 13 years. This is how it ended. thanks for reading! ]
AS QUICKLY AS I CONCEIVED IT, MY LAST DAY OF WORK ARRIVED.
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One day only three weeks ago, my team (Mahal and I) decided we needed a different path in our migration journey. On our current path, Wayz / Google Maps was giving us correct directions, but we weren’t getting anywhere, and without a doubt the job I was holding was a dead end.
The job had been good to me, had fed my team, and just as importantly, kept me in New Zealand. But I needed more. And also, time was running out. If I didn’t move soon, opportunity would slip away.
We didn’t need a long discussion, and before the end of the day, the decision was reached. However and wherever our migrant journey would continue, we didn’t know. But one thing was for sure: it wouldn’t be through this job. We would have to chart a path elsewhere.
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But where were we? Ah yes. My last day. For me, it couldn’t arrive soon enough as I craved the change, the transition into a new phase of our journey.
But when it did arrive, no one was more unprepared than me.
I told my work teammates one by one, as I didn’t like the attention it would generate. You see, most of the team (almost including me) are “lifers.” The job isn’t for everyone, but as soon as one gets used to the job, the routine and the permanence of the work (we manufacture a product everyone needs), the worker tends to stick to the job, the years fly by, and before you know it, you’ve been doing the same thing twenty years.
I liked my job, but not that much.
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Whether because I didn’t tell him first, or the fact that his roster turned to rubbish even before the year started, my line manager was even less pleased. He let me know that it was the worst timing for me, that I missed out on benefits by resigning blah blah blah but I had a feeling he was more than a little annoyed. But in the end he realized I was doing it to avoid being left with no options; that I was leaving while I could still do something. Which wasn’t a lot.
To the rest of the gang, it wasn’t just a hi-hello-goodbye situation either. Typical of being Pinoy (I’m the only Pinoy for miles and miles around), I got along with everyone, wasn’t always the best worker but at least I could pretend to be the most cheerful guy, even in sometimes a sarcastic way. Cheerfulness, when no one else is cheerful, can be infectious, and quite a few times I got remembered that way. Whether or not I meant it, I almost always showed I was grateful to have a job in New Zealand.
If I hadn’t made it obvious yet, it was becoming a painful experience leaving a job I’d grown to love.
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Back to my last day. As we were starting the machines up for the morning shift run, I did everything the usual way. Checked for blocks or leakages, made sure the system was clear before introducing the raw material, and made sure the machinery on start up was smooth and clear on the top floors before giving the all-clear to the shift manager below.
As I did my usual tests and checks, I started to realize that I would be doing my routine chores the last time. The boring test and inspection suddenly looked odd to me. Was I actually doing this for the last time? and so on and so forth. Was I passing this corridor of filters and air locks just one more time before calling it a day? Was the view on top of the factory, of other factories and the eternal sea, a view I was never going to enjoy again? At least, as a worker here? Yes, yes and yes.
I maintained my cheerful facade our first breaktime. Met Manpreet in the lunch room, our assistant plant engineer.
Happy New Year he greeted me, forgetting it was my last day.
Happy Diwali man!
It’s not freaking Diwali he said, before realizing I was just making fun of him.
Respectfully of course.
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I didn’t ask for a lunch but it was given to me anyway. Thirteen years working for your employer will earn you that at least. The line manager made the jokes just snarky enough to make us laugh but still good-naturedly enough to recognize the time I’d put in the company.
I started to make an impromptu speech but stopped before I got too emotional. The ones I spoke to knew the real reason I was leaving, but most of the others just thought I needed a change of scenery. I left it at that.
The rest of the shift I was just going through the motions, but I was just doing enough so I ‘d survive the shift. I didn’t want an inglorious finish to an otherwise unevenful day, which in a way reflected my stay with my employer: nothing flashy, but usually dependable.
I met the afternoon shift guys who missed my lunch, because of course they weren’t in yet. I became a little more emotional with them because we had around 10 minutes to sum up 10-plus years of working together.
I walked out of work clutching my lunchbox, and the workboots that I was allowed to take with me. That afternoon, I felt that I’d worked longer than the 13 years I worked there, and was taking more than the memories that would stay with me forever.
Part of me would always be in that factory.
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But wait. I still had the rest of my working life to map out the final leg of my migrant journey.
Thanks for reading, mabuhay!
