One last time...

This is the email that I sent to my former colleagues on Friday and I'm kind of loving it.

Dear Friends,
By this point, you have likely learned that today is my last day with UL EHS Sustainability, fka Workplace Health & Safety, fka UL PureSafety, fka PureSafety, dba PureWorks.  If you didn’t know that yet… surprise (insert jazz hands)!!!

Hopefully you have taken 30 seconds to work through Kubler-Ross’ Five Stages of Grief and have settled comfortably in Acceptance.  But you may still have some questions, which I will now attempt to answer below:

Q & A

Where are you headed?
I’m going to a small healthcare company in Brentwood. It reminds me a lot in spirit of PureSafety circa 2007.  I’ll still be training, working with customers – it’s not a huge departure from what I’ve been doing here.

Then why not just stay here?
Fair question.  It came down to one thing.  My new gig will require significantly less travel. Like, almost none.  As much as I’ve enjoyed getting to see America (with an extreme emphasis on Ohio and Texas), I love Nashville, and I’d like to spend more time here (my husband and our canine seem to be down with that, too).  Which in theory, since I'll be in Nashville more, means I’m more likely than ever to see you around.

So we’ll stay in touch?
I sure hope so! If we aren't friends on Facebook and you want to be, let's make it happen. I'm @nashvillekvetch on Twitter and Instagram (though pretty boring on both). I blog, but I already have three semi-regular readers so, I don't know if I can handle more.  I can definitely be found at Trader Joe’s pretty early on a Sunday morning with all the other heathens.  Plus, I’m, you know, friends with y'all, and so we’ll see each other at social events and lunches, and you know, I'm always up for going out...  Plus, I plan to come back for blood drives, so truthfully, you’ll see me plenty.  Or if you don’t like me, more than plenty (although, if you don't like me, why the heck are you reading this?).  And of course, you can e mail me anytime (especially for non-PureSafety related conversations) – (email redacted), which also works for Google Chat.  Anyone who wants my phone number can ask for it – I’m not putting it on this email, because I've witnessed what some of you are capable of (and you know who you are).

Does it feel weird to be leaving?
To quote Tom Petty, “Oh my my, oh Hell yes”.  I’ve been here just nine days short of a decade, which is a shade under a quarter of my life (why yes, I am older than I look - how kind of you to say so).  I have met some life-changingly wonderful people here, and it has been pretty darn amazing. We've been through the combo platter every possible food-based holiday and type of life event together: love, heartbreak, marriage, divorce. Houses, babies, pets. Illness, tornadoes, surgeries, sinkholes and even death.  You have been my friends, my colleagues, my cheerleaders, my fashion consultants, my therapists, my travel companions, my navigators and my partners in crime (I mean crime in the metaphorical sense. I cannot clarify that enough).  I have laughed with you.  I have cried, well, not with you but near you (mostly in the bathroom stall or my car).  I did not take this decision lightly, nor did I make it quickly.  I’ll miss you, I’ll miss our customers.  I’ll miss the ice machine in the break room…

Now who's going to ask questions in meetings and Town Halls?
All of you, I hope.  Somehow, I've gotten the reputation for being mouthy (no, really) - but I don't ask questions just to be annoying (I mean, if they are, bonus, but...).  I like to know stuff.  If you do, too... ask!

Can I have your desk?
That’s out of my jurisdiction, but by all means, go take a look - I left a decent pile of interesting stuff ripe for pillaging.

I heard a rumor that you were going to rent an inflatable bouncy castle to give your resignation.  Is that true?
Kind of.  That started as Facebook thread about winning the lottery and quitting your job creatively. I did investigate what it would cost to have one installed on the top of the parking deck, and it was surprisingly reasonable.  But, as it turns out, it's a little unsafe and there’s probably some liability that I don’t want to assume.  So, no – I did it the standard way, using a Haiku:

This is to inform
You that I am leaving. Thanks
for AEIP.

(Just kidding, I behaved like a grownup. For once.)

This email is really long and incredibly narcissistic.
That's actually a statement, not a question.  Next?


Any last words?
There are so many of you I want to thank individually for so very many things.  If I do that here, this email would be ridiculously long.  I have tried/will continue to try to speak to everyone individually so that you how much you've meant to me over the years (suffice it to say, a lot).

Well, I guess that's it.

As always,

Allison Breyer Everett


 P.S.  I want to clear one thing up for good.  The men's room on the 6th floor?  It wasn't me.

Comments

I kind of feel like quitting my job just so I can issue an email like this. I mean, I kind of feel like quitting my job on a weekly basis. But how awesome would it be to do it with this level of panache? I bow to you, my friend.
That's truly a bittersweet resignation. The rule in theater is, always leave 'em wanting more, and you've certainly done that.
Also if I had known I would have contributed to the bouncy castle fund. Heck, your coworkers should have chipped in for one.
Sarah Norris said…
We all know you are responsible for the bathroom. Don't deny it.