My last hours

… at my second job.

I have to clean up before I leave, and have shredded about 2 ring files’ worth of paper, half of which I have not read, and were not even printed by me. I have shredded at least three times that amount belonging to my colleague out of good will. I won’t be able to work if I have that much trash in my cubicle. Hats off to her.

I am less hesitant to leave my second job, perhaps because I never harboured hopes of staying here forever, unlike while at my first job. Perhaps the more you move, the less emotional attachment you feel towards a job. There is also less fear despite knowing that my third job will be a lot more fast-paced and I will have to work longer hours. It is as if my horizon has been expanded when I left my first job and forced myself to adapt to this place. I know that I can survive.


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