For months the counter on my works computer had been counting down the days like an Advent calendar. Now the clock read ‘Zero’ and it was the biggest Christmas Day of my life.
I awoke very early with a mixture of excitement and nerves that I hadn't felt since I was a child. Work was a succession of goodbyes, handshakes and good wishes. It was the last of everything. Even my last meeting didn’t seem quite so boring as usual.
The strangest part was writing reports with recommendations for change that I would not be present to see implemented. My ego wanted to leave behind some form of legacy but I knew that it was like writing my name on the seashore and it would not be long before all trace of me was erased.
I took a last lingering look at the building where I had enjoyed so many happy times and bade a silent farewell to my old life.
Deciding how to leave was something I had given a lot of thought to. Some colleagues have thrown huge parties when they retire. At the other extreme there was a Superintendent who said he was just popping out to the shop on his last day and never came back.
I decided against the big party and I settled for buying lunch at a nice restaurant near the police station for about thirty of the people I had worked with. I wanted it to be my thank you for their care, help and support. The people attending were those that had made an impact on my life whilst working at headquarters – my own staff, the cleaner, people I had worked closely with and those I simply cared about. One friend, Ian, had known me since I joined. Another, Jo, had known me for just over a year and I invited her simply because she always took the time to talk to me and be pleasant when she found me lurking near the coffee machine.
I care about what people are, their qualities and values, more than who they are, their rank or status. Therefore there was a distinct lack of ‘management’ at my farewell lunch. The only senior officer was present was Pat, a lovely man whom I had known since he transferred to the force some years earlier and who was also leaving the following week to take up a new post as Assistant Chief Constable with a southern police force.
Despite the fact that we were in a restaurant and there were other parties present, Pat got up to make a speech that suitably embarrassed me and I was given appropriate middle aged gapper gifts, including The Rough Guide to New Zealand.
I quickly went into the speech I had in my head, making it as humorous as I could by stealing some material from Count Arthur Strong on Radio 4. Then I said what was in my heart and not just lodged in my head by way of preparation.
‘Walking away today is strange feeling. This day has been a long time coming for me and I honestly don’t think I will miss the job. I’m excited about the future. But I will miss the people, because I have been lucky enough to work with wonderful people who have done so much to make my time at headquarters really special. People who mean so much to me. I don’t have time for people who think they are important because they have reached a certain level in the force. What I care about are people with strong values such as honesty, integrity, compassion and decency. And that is why you are all here today. Thank you.’
My voice cracked and the tears I had hoped to avoid filled my eyes.
A few minutes later our lunchtime party began to break up and everyone went back to work. Everyone except me. My daughter took me home and I began my new life.
Next time - Free at last - Italy
I awoke very early with a mixture of excitement and nerves that I hadn't felt since I was a child. Work was a succession of goodbyes, handshakes and good wishes. It was the last of everything. Even my last meeting didn’t seem quite so boring as usual.
The strangest part was writing reports with recommendations for change that I would not be present to see implemented. My ego wanted to leave behind some form of legacy but I knew that it was like writing my name on the seashore and it would not be long before all trace of me was erased.
I took a last lingering look at the building where I had enjoyed so many happy times and bade a silent farewell to my old life.
Deciding how to leave was something I had given a lot of thought to. Some colleagues have thrown huge parties when they retire. At the other extreme there was a Superintendent who said he was just popping out to the shop on his last day and never came back.
I decided against the big party and I settled for buying lunch at a nice restaurant near the police station for about thirty of the people I had worked with. I wanted it to be my thank you for their care, help and support. The people attending were those that had made an impact on my life whilst working at headquarters – my own staff, the cleaner, people I had worked closely with and those I simply cared about. One friend, Ian, had known me since I joined. Another, Jo, had known me for just over a year and I invited her simply because she always took the time to talk to me and be pleasant when she found me lurking near the coffee machine.
I care about what people are, their qualities and values, more than who they are, their rank or status. Therefore there was a distinct lack of ‘management’ at my farewell lunch. The only senior officer was present was Pat, a lovely man whom I had known since he transferred to the force some years earlier and who was also leaving the following week to take up a new post as Assistant Chief Constable with a southern police force.
Despite the fact that we were in a restaurant and there were other parties present, Pat got up to make a speech that suitably embarrassed me and I was given appropriate middle aged gapper gifts, including The Rough Guide to New Zealand.
I quickly went into the speech I had in my head, making it as humorous as I could by stealing some material from Count Arthur Strong on Radio 4. Then I said what was in my heart and not just lodged in my head by way of preparation.
‘Walking away today is strange feeling. This day has been a long time coming for me and I honestly don’t think I will miss the job. I’m excited about the future. But I will miss the people, because I have been lucky enough to work with wonderful people who have done so much to make my time at headquarters really special. People who mean so much to me. I don’t have time for people who think they are important because they have reached a certain level in the force. What I care about are people with strong values such as honesty, integrity, compassion and decency. And that is why you are all here today. Thank you.’
My voice cracked and the tears I had hoped to avoid filled my eyes.
A few minutes later our lunchtime party began to break up and everyone went back to work. Everyone except me. My daughter took me home and I began my new life.
Next time - Free at last - Italy
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