TheBanyanTree: My Last Day

[Monique Colver]

I am so fond of last days that I keep having them, sometimes at the same
place. I once had a last day at GWT on December 31st of last year. "I'm
leaving now," I proclaimed to my co-workers and my boss, "this just isn't a
good fit and I'm outta here." Disappointed in my lack of staying power
(after having cut my salary in half as a cost saving measure several months
earlier), my boss pouted, and didn't say goodbye. I was unfazed. It wasn't a
good fit anymore. It had been, earlier in the year, but the corporate
culture was turning in on itself in a shameless exhibition of what happens
when good ideas go bad, and it just wasn't fun anymore. Getting me to work
when it isn't fun is not an easy task.
Shortly after I left, within a month or so, the guy they called the
controller dropped dead. Literally. The term "drop dead" is often used as a
figure of speech, but this was the real thing. And everyone looked around at
everyone else and said, "Now what?" The CFO especially seemed a bit confused
about his next course of action. So the CFO called me and asked if I could
come in to help straighten things out and show him how to do a few things. I
was pretty busy, having just taken on another time consuming client, but I
said sure, no problem, I could give them a few hours. 
	One of my first tasks, when I went back into the office, was
explaining to the CFO how to procure office supplies. "It's like this," I
said, "You go to the office supply store, Office Depot if you like, it's
right down the street, pick up what you need, bring it back here. Or you go
online and order online, but I see that we already owe those people so much
money they won't ship to us. So you'll have to go to the store."
	"I have to go the store and buy things?" he asked me, apparently
shocked that office supplies did not appear like magic. 
	"Well, yes," I said. And then, in my usual manner, I asked, "Do you
want me to stop at the office supply store on my way in tomorrow?"
	I did this because it seemed like it would be a lot easier if I just
went and picked things up myself. I was right.
	They made an attempt at getting a temp in the office. The new John
(the controller's name had been John also) was elderly and we'd been
promised he had extensive QuickBooks experience, and it was true that he did
a darn good job of filing, but he didn't live up to our expectations. I went
in several times a week, and suddenly noticed the new guy wasn't there
anymore. When I asked the CFO why he said it was because there wasn't that
much to do. 
	I continued going in. I charged my usual high hourly rate, of
course, since if I had to be back at a job I'd already quit I was at least
going to make a killing at it. I also let them know that in the fall I'd be
moving, and I wouldn't be able to come in at all, so they might want to take
that into consideration.
	They did. They took that into consideration and then shredded it. 
	They decided they needed me 20 hours a week. I said fine, since I
could certainly use the money. Sometimes they even wanted me in on Monday,
and I never work on Monday. (By never I mean I try to take it off now and
then.) Things were pretty much the same as before, except I wasn't an
employee, I was a contractor, which meant I could come in and leave whenever
I wanted, and I was also not in charge of anymore anymore, not officially.
Unofficially, I was in charge of explaining double entry accounting to the
CFO, who at one point asked me, "But how does the revenue get in there if
the invoice goes to AR?" 
	I often wondered to myself what he was CFO of before we found him
and scooped him up. Technically, he may have scooped us up, since he
invested in the company and was handsomely rewarded with a job. I'm sure
he's wonderful at some sort of upper level corporate stuff. Really. A nice
guy.
	My independent status allowed the CEO, the guy I'd quit on, to
ignore me most of the time. That was fine with me. Everyone else was
thrilled to have me back, probably because of the chocolate I brought in to
the office. 
	We worked really hard to convince potential investors we were worth
sinking money into, and at last, in July, we were rewarded with 3 million in
investment capital. And 20 hours was not enough time, because someone had to
spend all that money. Someone had to start complying with the investor's
requirements for financials. "I need you all the time," the CFO said, and so
I complied as much as I could, but I do have a life. 
	The factory got back into operation. Marketing started going all out
again. Vendors were dealt with. Many of them were quite irritated with us
because we owed them a lot of money and hadn't paid in awhile. The investors
started getting nosy and asking a lot of questions. That's what they do. If
I handed someone 3 mil I'd be asking a lot of questions too. 
	And all along I kept mentioning that I'd be moving in the fall. In
September, but that got changed to October, but then I was offered an
accounting manager salaried position, a job I'll do from home, so I took it,
and I let them know that my days were numbered. This shouldn't have been a
huge surprise - I'd told the CFO that I was considering the position. But he
was heartbroken. "Don't leave right away!" he pleaded, though fortunately he
didn't go as far as getting on his knees. That would have just been
embarrassing. Not to mention harmful to his pants. 
	I delayed starting my new job for several weeks - they wanted me to
start immediately, but I told them I had COMMITMENTS. So they waited. 
	I was becoming bored with being back at my job, the job I'd left
once already. It's certainly not a bad place to work. The people are nice
and they laugh at my jokes, and that's basically all I ask of my coworkers.
The CFO has a habit of going over things again and again and again, until I
could scream because we didn't already cover that? Didn't I already explain
how that worked? I was ready to move on. Still I saw them making no effort
to replace me. True, the company is suddenly in a growth stage and nobody
has time for anything, but it's not as if my leaving was a surprise. It's
not as if I hadn't let them know from the beginning that I was a temporary
fix for a permanent problem.
	The second week in September my new employer sent me a contract and
said they hoped I could start the 24th. I told the CFO he had one more week,
and then I'd be on my way, I couldn't put off my new employer any longer. 
	"What will I do?" he asked. 
	"You'll be fine," I told him, because even I am replaceable. (I
can't believe I just admitted that. What's wrong with me?)
	The next day there was a temp. A shy young girl just finished with
her Master's in Accounting, just three years in the States from her home in
Hong Kong, and when she couldn't tell the difference between a bill and an
invoice, nor what to do with either, I suspected a long learning curve. In
college they teach theory, which is all fine and good and will come in handy
when she's a CFO, in theory. And when she'd come tiptoeing up to my desk
with a piece of paper in her little hand and whisper something that sounded
like, "eiokyiukjfduoi 0lkjfuoe lkjlkioureojj," I'd think to myself, "How
many hours do I have left, anyway?" I'm sure she was perfectly intelligible.
I, on the other hand, have trouble with strong accents and whispering, and I
couldn't tell if I couldn't understand her because she was talking so softly
or because of her accent, which just made it harder for me to decipher what
she was trying to ask me, which meant some of my answers were wrong before
they were right. 
	We struggled through. She expressed deep regret at my leaving,
wondering what was going to happy once I was gone. I thought this odd since
she'd just arrived and couldn't possible have any idea what it was I really
did. Meanwhile, the CFO and the new receptionist, who seemed to despise me
from the time she started with the company several weeks earlier, which I
thought quite rude since I'd been instrumental in getting her hired, whipped
into action and started reviewing resumes.
	The receptionist came up to the CFO in our huge 3-person cubicle,
also known as the accounting kingdom, and proclaimed one of the candidates
unsuitable. "She's just out of college, and not even from this country, and
I don't know if she can just pick right up and get things done," the
receptionist said, which I thought quite rude since she was saying it in
front of Sharon the temp, who was right out of college and not from this
country. 
	The day before I left the CFO mentioned to the CEO that Friday was
my last day. The CEO looked at me and said, "Oh, is that right?" with his
customary little chuckle. I chuckled along with him. He didn't seem to share
the CFO's disappointment in my departure. Probably afraid I'd take his job
if I stayed too long. (That was a joke. It's necessary to point that out
because sometimes people can't tell if I'm serious or not.)
	The last day passed with a panicked CFO trying to make sure
everything was covered before I left. "You have to tell me how to handle
inventory," he said, "Because I don't have a clue." We'd had numerous
discussions about inventory and cost of goods sold, and he was still not
quite understanding why a change to one would result in a change to the
other. People steeped in the service industry just don't have a good grasp
of inventory. I'm not fond of it myself. "It just does," I said, having
given up all hope of making myself understood, and he accepted that rather
lame explanation. I then drew up a chart of what adjustments to make at
month end to make sure everything was right, based on the final inventory
count. Et cetera. I drew up many little charts and lists of instructions. 
	And the day passed. When I had done all I could (which was probably
not enough, but it never is, so why worry about it?) I said goodbye, and
when the CFO asked if he could still reach me at my cell number and my email
address I said of course. At my normal hourly rate, of course. 
	And now I get to start a new adventure. A secret, just between you
and me: I don't have to start until Wednesday. I didn't tell the CFO this
because I didn't want to be back in there Monday and Tuesday. It's kind of
sad when he looks at me with those big hopeless puppy dog eyes and says,
"Please . . . "

M