To everyone else in the office, it is just another Friday. A few meetings are scheduled, some projects are planned out for the next week, but for the most part it is business as usual. But not for Vinny. Today is Vinny’s last day. After thirty-five years of working for the company, Vinny is finally retiring.
Vinny swipes his badge and, at the faint beep of the door unlocking, he pushes it open to walk up the grey cement staircase for one final time. Over the last three decades he has come to know every single little nuance of that building. Such as the third-floor button in the elevator that never lights up, no matter how hard you press it. And how there’s an odd bit of carpet that ripped up at some point outside the men’s bathroom on his floor, and to this day remains feathered out as if no one else notices. He knows that the door to the second-floor conference room has squeaky hinges, causing a lot of noise when it swings, so he has mastered the art of softly nudging it until it lightly clicks shut.
Vinny also has stained subtle traits of the people around him to his memory. He’s taken note how Debora from Accounting always gives such firm handshakes that his knuckles nearly crack, while Kyle in Marketing has a handshake so flimsy you’d barely know he was touching you. He’s picked up on how Veronica, the VP of Regional Sales, only says “good morning” when she’s in a good mood. Otherwise, if she’s even keel or worse, all she’d say to greet you is “mornin”. He’s also observed that the people who enjoy the coffee in the break room seem to have less of it, while the ones who complain about it tasting bad always drink multiple cups a day. Over the three-and-a-half decades of service at this company, he has learned all of this and more. But nothing greater, perhaps, then what he’s learned about himself.
When he started with the company, he was hired to what was then an early version of a modern-day IT department. His first job was to write basic computer code to manage data records. This was when he typed on black and green screens, and the CPU system of the newest computers were large enough to fill an entire board room. Since then he has worked countless overtime hours, been promoted, and once told a manager to shove his head up his own ass. Vinny was threatened to be fired, then promoted again, and transferred to the Distribution Division where he restructured the company’s entire east-coast distribution plan. Later in his career, he again told a (different) manager (who was his equal in rank at the time) to shove his head up his ass, only to be promoted over that manager― and eventually laughed with Executive Management about how he had said that to other managers. Finally, after proving a steady track record of cutting distribution costs, Vinny was promoted one last time to VP of National Distribution for the company, a title he had held for the last eight years. During all these years, Vinny moved four times, met the girl he eventually married, and raised two children through college. He also went bald, developed a passion for fishing, was told that he needed to pay more attention to his blood pressure, lost touch with old friends, grew fond of new neighbors, and owned seven different second-hand cars but never more than three at any given time. Now, finally at the dawn of his retirement, Vinny has no idea what is next.
Leaned back in a plush leather chair, Vinny crosses his fingers behind his head and lets out a giant yawn. Today’s affairs are largely ceremonial. Really all Vinny has to do is attend one last meeting regarding new distribution patterns after he will be gone, meet with HR to finalize the fine print of his 401k, and then turn in his entrance badge. His large congrats party was last week, followed by a more intimate send-off dinner this past Tuesday. The only six people he actually gave a damn about at this company had brought him to a fancy restaurant. They shared stories of good times, laughed over shared mishaps, and bad mouthed nearly every manager they reported to before they themselves became in charge. They talked about how much they’ll miss him, how thankful they were to have worked with him, and how they all wish him luck in the future. He and his coworkers all shook hands, and they patted Vinny on the back. What they hadn’t said was despite how different it might be for him, the world would continue to spin the same and, come Monday, it would just be another day at work for them.
Now, on his last day, Vinny clears out his desk and prepares the final reports to hand off. With no actual work left for him to do, he decides he doesn’t want to sit around the office anymore. So he gets up, and for one last time stretches his legs down the hallway to get some coffee. Walking into the shared kitchenette, he takes out a single blue mug from the cabinets. It’s a deep blue, more like the ocean than the sky. Remaining still with the mug in hand, he briefly stares into the blue. With his thumb he lightly traces over a small crack, not deep enough to break the ceramic, that extends out from under the handle down to the bottom. When he hears footsteps approaching he snaps back to consciousness, and quickly fills the mug with hot black liquid as Joe from IT walks in.
“Hey there, Vinny!” Joe says, “Today’s the big day right? Can you believe it’s really here?”
“Not at all. It feels like I blinked.” Vinny paused. “Just a blink and the next thing I know I’m here.”
“Sure, sure. I get that.” Joe says while focused on filling his own mug. “It’s crazy how time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Ha ha, yeah. Having fun.” Vinny lets his voice trail off while he sips his coffee, deciding it tastes just fine. They both just stand there, silent for a moment. There isn’t much to say. Just the two of them, enjoying their morning brew, on another Friday at work. Eventually, Joe leans forward to pat Vinny on the back before turning to walk back to his desk. There is no door to the kitchenette, but as Joe approaches the threshold he stops in his tracks.
“So what do you think it’ll be like?”
“What do you mean,” Vinny asks.
“Retirement. You’ve always been a planner. All your time here you’ve always been looking ahead at what’s next. So what is it? For you. What’s next?”
Vinny isn’t anticipating this and can’t think of an answer right away. Instead he sighs and looks down intently at his hands. These hands have been at work since I was 14, and haven’t stopped since, he thinks to himself. He’s honestly at a loss for what will come next.
He looks back up and says, “I guess I don’t know. Life goes on, as they say. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I guess that’s just it. It’ll be Saturday forever.”
After saying this, Vinny gets up and walks back to his office quietly. He doesn’t run into anyone else during the remainder of the day. When the time finally comes he pushes his chair back and heads back downstairs. Once he reaches the parking garage and gets into his car, he immediately turns on the radio. One of the Beatle’s major hits sounds through the speakers, which brings a grin to Vinny’s face. He twists the key, and without looking back, drives away.
Stories About Stuff 