The Resignation

The letter has been rewritten, rephrased, proof-read, spell-checked. It was then printed, made sure everything was aligned.  

Cross-checked it again before it was signed with with a Mont Blanc Rollerball from the legendary Meisterstuck collection - a pen which seem ever so popular among the managerial rank when I first started working and therefore, I decided I have to get myself one using my first ever pay cheque.  And I did.  No better pen can have that honour to sign that important letter on this very special day! 

Folded the letter so perfectly and placed that into a fitted envelope with care, sealed with a kiss (you wish) and off I went to see my boss smash on dot of the hour. 

He had no idea.  

Like all Brits do, we started off with discussing the weather.  I mean you can never go terribly wrong with that, then we digressed a bit into the regional weather and then went global before we returned to the local, weather again.  Twenty minutes into the hour and we basically covered the whole climatic regime on earth, the unpredictability of weather forecasts nowadays and a couple of other things and that was when I handed him the letter. 

He looked surprised and I wouldn't blame him as we were nonetheless on the calmer side of the weather front the last minute and this minute, we found ourselves in stormy seas.  How predictable was that?  I was also probably the last person in the team who would be susceptible to resigning for that matter.  And practically because I'd imagine myself be rather rusty (the last resignation being merely more than 12 years ago), I thought I needed that 20 minutes or so staging effort, in which the bit on weather forecast came in really handy as a nice little cushion.

The next 20 mins of conversation went exceptionally well, I told my boss why I would like to leave and as far as he's concerned, I have a proper hand-over plan in place, we are good.  And I made sure I keep that door open (just in case I do need to return at some point down the road).

"Actually, all we need now is an email from you to your boss, copying HR.  Then you will be brought to a website and with a press of a button, it's procedurally done."

That was probably when I felt strongly the incredible efficiency working in a high-tech company - where everything is so automatic, systematic, hydromatic!   In one word - cold.

"But since you have that letter printed, might as well let me have a read now!"

"Good letter," he said (probably thanking good lord I haven't a word against him).   Frankly, I have no reason to.  He has been really kind - the kind that is almost too fatherly kind to be your boss, if you know what I mean.  

"You still need to go press that button, then it's all systems go, Bob's your uncle."


After all, I haven't had much experience resigning, the last time I did was donkey years ago and I did have to physically "tender" my resignation with a "physical" letter then. 

I returned to my desk and as I scrolled through that HR site step-by-step, I felt so old-fashioned like a piece of antique.  If I were to redo this, I'd still prefer a proper letter and a face-to-face meeting over an email and a button. No question about that.   

The thing is, whatever means it needed me to take, I finally did it.  Procedurally done.  I HAVE officially resigned.