Over the last four years, I have learned to write blogs and tweets and web copy and proposals and marketing emails and Facebook updates and industry articles and almost every other sort of thing you could imagine. But I have no idea how to write this blog post.
How am I supposed to sum up the four years that took me from a broken, surly college grad to a professional who feels she’s found her calling? How am I supposed to put into words what this place and these people have meant to me?
No, really. I could use some help; I’ve been staring at this screen for the last half hour.
Okay. I guess I should talk about how I truly consider everyone here to be a member of my family, but that’s a total cliche. Even if I did accidentally once tell Lorraine “I love you” at the end of a phone call because I got her confused with my mom. Even if Jay, gone from Roundpeg but never forgotten, is basically another brother to me.
The next right thing to do seems to talk about how wonderful my clients all were, how hard it is to leave some of them after three years of almost daily contact. How they taught me that people earn their livings in such different and wonderful ways, and how they taught me to see beauty in a jar of beans or a piece of vinyl flooring. That’s not sarcasm, by the way. Everything has a story, it’s just a matter of finding it.
If I were writing this for someone who wasn’t me, I would suggest a paragraph about the atmosphere in the little white house I’ve called home for so long. How much I’m going to miss working with a cat curled up in my lap and Jenna commanding me to go to ZooBorns so we can squeal over pictures of baby otters (she calls them sea puppies). I would make sure to mention how sometimes, when it’s quiet, you can hear Peter humming along with our Florence + the Machine Pandora station. And of course, how Rebecca always made sure I had enough Diet Coke on hand and offered to bring me soup whenever I was sick.
Is it getting dusty in here? Must be all the cat hair.
Working at Roundpeg has been a life-changing, life-saving experience. I could stay here forever and I would be happy. There is always more to learn from Lorraine; there is always more to teach young and promising professionals like Anne. But my motto is that if you’re scared, you’re probably doing something right. I’m terrified to leave this wonderful place, but I know part of me will always be here. Plus, I’m keeping my key so I can still feed the cats.
To all of you who have been my friends and mentors and readers over the years, thank you. To Jenna, Peter, Rebecca, Anne, Emily, Tamre, Jay, Taylor, Jennifer and every other wonderful ‘Pegger, I can’t ever repay you for your friendship and mentorship.
But most of all, to Lorraine, thanks for taking a chance on me, Boss.