The Extremely Awkward Two Week Period

When I left my last job, there was a period of time (two weeks) between when I gave my notice and my last day of work, and that period of time can best be described as, “extremely awkward.”

I should back up.

My husband and I were legally able to live and work in America for three glorious years because we were in possession of a three year visa. We had applied for green cards during our first year in America and we waited patiently for almost two years for that big, yellow* envelope in the mail…

And guess what? It didn’t happen!

We still don’t know why… We are (obviously) model citizens… Other than the littering, road rage, and failing to submit our income tax returns**.

But seriously, America took one look at us and our papers, and decided that we weren’t good enough. Can you believe that crap?

America, who the hell do you think you are?! 

It was probably down to some lowly Border Agency employee… And his name was probably something like “Steve.”

Perhaps Steve was “going through a rough time”… Maybe Steve realized that his wife Becky was “emotionally intimate” with her lacrosse coach Darryl… Maybe his kids, Steve Jr. (12) and Loretta (10) no longer looked up to 5’2″ Steve… Maybe Steve wasn’t as “virile” as he once was… Maybe turning down people’s green cards was the ONE thing that made Steve still feel like a man***.

I digress (what else is new?).

The point is… We didn’t get our green cards and we needed to leave the US of A, post haste!

As the news that I was leaving my job spread like chlamydia through a college dormitory, people would offer their condolences and kind words. It wasn’t uncommon for me to hear that I was so and so’s “favourite co-worker of all time,” or that they would miss me “more than their dead Grandma,” or “they’ve never known love like this.” You get the picture.

It was a sad state of affairs all around.

Perhaps most shocking to me was that COMPLETE AND UTTER STRANGERS would come up to me in the hallways and elevators of my workplace and tell me that they were going to miss me. In some cases, I couldn’t recall ever having met, or ever having seen these people with my eyes, and no – I don’t suffer from face blindness***  (which is a real thing by the way). One girl said she heard I was leaving and that she would miss me and that we should “totally be Facebook friends.”

And you know what, I was touched for realz. Because if my mere presence has that sort of effect on someone I have never met or laid eyes on, then I am obviously doing something right in the workplace.

At home – not so much, but in the workplace – oh yeah.



* I’m just assuming it would be big and yellow.

** Joke – obvs!

*** And you know what? Steve can suck it because I want no part of Trump’s America anyway. Who’s laughing (in the best country in the world AKA Canada) now Steve?

**** Or, Prosopagnosia


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