CLARITY THROUGH CLOSURE
When I was young I dreamt of working in a big city, for a big company, in a big building with my own big office. I have been blessed and lucky to live that dream for many years in both Los Angeles and Chicago. I love it, and have joked that “I thrive under the fluorescent lights” of the office.
The combination of pandemic induced work-from-home success, a company merger and opportunity for cost savings, have resulted in the company decision to relocate our teams to a new building with open work space. I will still be working in a big city for a big company in a big building, I just had to let go of the big office.
A brilliant and beloved advertising industry sage, Rishad Tobaccowala, recently shared that as we emerge from social distancing into the “new strange” work-life corporate employees will work across many different places. One of them will be what he called the “museum” otherwise known as the office. He explained, “The museum is where you go to learn about the history of the company. It’s filled with artifacts and indoctrination camps. It’s where the old fogies, women and men hang out and roost, because this is where they are comfortable and they can see you.”
I’ve worked for the same company for 19 years. Prior to the pandemic induced work from home mandate, every single one of them was spent at 401 N Michigan, or “401” as we lovingly refer to it. As I started to catalog all the memories, both work and personal that happened over my tenure there, I wondered if I could make it through the pack up without a dramatic crumbling to the ground in tears.
Perhaps it was the change of perspective the office offered by Rishad, or a disconnect caused from working from my bedroom all year, or I might just be a little numb from the pandemic and the fall out of the merger; whatever it was, there were no tears when I cleaned out my beautiful office. Not even when I did the dramatic one last look around before I walked out. Not one single tear.
To my surprise I did cry in other parts of the building.
When my happy friend at the security desk recognized me right away and said “Matty May how have you been? I have missed you and we are so sad to hear you are leaving.” I started to ugly cry behind my mask.
When I was unloading my artifacts from the freight elevator the security guard said to me “Why is it that the good tenants are the ones that leave?” As we reminisced about classic coworkers from the past, I started to tear up as I told him not goodbye but “see you later.”
When the sweet custodian waved and said, “I hope you like your new building. We will miss you.” I got that lump in my throat that started to push out more tears.
I blubbered a bit more when I thanked the parking manager for always being so helpful and such a happy part of my days. He too said he would miss all of us.
I wept as I walked to my car packed with things I will be sure to toss away when I see how insignificant they are when not displayed together under those fluorescent lights.
With this office cleanout came clarity, as cleanouts often bring. Mourning the loss of my office now seems irrelevant and actually pretty stupid (I have never been a big museum gal.) The unexpected feeling of loss came from saying goodbye to the people that had effortlessly decorated my life in the background for almost 20 years. The debt of their everyday kindness leaves me with an achy longing for days gone by. Those people, relationships and memories can’t be boxed up with the lanyards, letters, books and pictures. I take these with me in my heart. I am grateful to them for reminding me of the powerful lesson that how we choose to live our lives has a lasting impact on others beyond our expectation or understanding.
While Matty truly enjoys learning and has an appreciation for history, she still struggles with museums. She and her husband Andrew joke that on their first trip to Paris together they did the Louvre in 20 minutes. If you want to talk about your thoughts on museums, share your favorite office stories, or those special everyday encounters in your life, Matty would love to make the connection here.
