Tough Things

Today was the day I had to tell Sally I am leaving the gerontology journal to tutor the athletes next year full time. I hate having to tell nice bosses that I am leaving. I dawdled forever telling the folks at Rugby magazine. I actually broke out in a rash before quitting my corporate publishing gig. And today I had to tell a sweet little old lady that I couldn't work for her anymore. Last night I pepped myself up because I knew she would be happy for me and excited that I am getting full tuition and health benefits and a hearty stipend. And so, I came into work early and pitted out waiting with coffee in hand for her to arrive.

Obviously she started the day by giving me a gift from her canyon hike in Utah and asking me all about taking my cousins to the zoo. Obviously she had to sit down in her chair and say "oooooooooooohhhhhh dear" when I blurted out my news. She wanted to actually retire next year, not just pretend retire like she did five years ago before she founded the journal. Only now she feels nervous about a new person learning the ropes well enough to keep the journal going and she is scared she can't get a grant for a new person where it would be easy to get one for a continuing person. There was no hug. There was no congratulations. Just plopping into a chair, heart clutching, and "oooooooooohhhhhhhh dear."

This is a terrible day. I have made an old lady sad for the sake of my financial sanity. Instead of being overjoyed that I will now earn more than I ever earned in the working world for doing only 20 hours of work per week AND have insurance, I'm just sad. At least I've already told her and don't have to dread that anymore. Maybe I'll sleep tonight.