On my first day of work at Hallmark (June 2012), I wore a sportscoat, a tie, and slacks because I didn’t know what the dress code was. It was my first corporate professional job, and I was pretty naïve. Lisa, Nancy, and Saundra very kindly, very gently explained to me that the coat and tie weren’t necessary. The creatives dressed however they wanted, and the executives were the only ones who really wore suits and ties. I still wore sportscoats to work every now and then, though, because I have a few and I actually like the way they feel and look.
Seven and a half years later, on my last day of work at Hallmark (February 2020), I wore a sportscoat and khakis. I figured the outfit would help me brace for a difficult day. I guess it helped some, but there’s really no way to brace ourselves for endings, is there?
On that day, I printed out a few things, returned some library books, and then met with Cheryl, who had been my work sister/mentor/friend for the last two years of my Hallmark life. Then I stopped by the desks of another couple really good friends. Then I boxed up what remained of the things at my desk and took it all to the car. Then I returned my company equipment. Then I met a friend and walked out the corporate entrance and went to lunch, and I said the last of my goodbyes for the day.
I walked out that door unattached to any immediate employment, and that’s a weird way to feel.
So after lunch, I drove to the Nelson-Atkins museum and strolled through the Queen Nefertari Egyptian exhibit and saw sculptures and sarcophagi and a vase with breasts and arms (but without a head) sculpted on it, which was new to me. And then I walked to the museum courtyard, grabbed a cup of coffee, sat down at a table, opened a new journal, and began to write. Because I guess that's what my life had become.
I spent the next four months writing a lot. I wrote professional stuff (resume, cover letter, marketing plan, LinkedIn profile) to try to find a new job. Then the pandemic hit, and I wrote about that. And then I wrote a lot about politics, because we’re in a particularly fraught moment when we need to be paying attention more. I wrote about being a parent. And I wrote about a lot of other things that matter a lot less—music, comics, TV, action figures, movies.
I spent four months writing my way out of feeling like shit after saying goodbye to a job I didn’t want to leave.
A few days ago, I pulled out this outfit again to wear for an on-site interview. It was already almost 90° outside by the time the interview started, so it wasn't necessarily a perfect outfit. We all wore face masks inside and kept a safe distance apart. But as warm and weird as the circumstances were, this jacket and tie made everything feel right. And I got the job. That was based largely on the person I had spent the previous four months (and the 10 years before that) writing myself into. But there was also a certain degree of comfort in being that person when I was in an outfit that’s seen so many high and low points.
I doubt I’ll wear this (or something like this) again on my first day of my new job. I’ll be working with a group of creatives, and I know better how that works now. I don’t want to be the weird one. (Not right away, anyway.) But while this outfit won’t necessarily be a part of my professional identity anytime soon, it will always be a big part of who I am. I don’t need that kind of security blanket. But I’m glad I have it, just in case.
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