Hey, look, it’s been ten years since I graduated high school. Look at that. Time flies.
This post isn’t really about graduation decennials, though. This is about quitting my longest-held job.
Eleven years ago I dropped off a resume at the Thunder Bay Art Gallery. I was just finishing up Grade 11, and I wanted a summer job that wasn’t going through old files in the creepy storage room beneath the Chapple Building for my dad’s law firm. The Gallery Attendant position being advertised in the Lakehead University job bank seemed like it would work. I got an interview, and for reasons I still don’t fathom, I got the job.
The full-time, minimum wage job turned into a part-time, minimum wage job during my last year of high school. Then I worked all summer again. This pattern continued for a few years. After about three summers, I took a research job over the summer at the university instead. But I kept coming back during the school year to work at the front desk.
Last night was my last regular shift as a gallery attendant.
I’ve left before, of course. I couldn’t very well commute to the gallery when I…