Good Job

Yesterday was my last day at work. A few days from a ten-year span. I did other things during, but this was the one I could count on to pay the bills.

I realized "It's been a pleasure" and "thank you" frustratingly does not seem to be enough. There's something else I should say, but the words won't come. Oh well, done and done. I'm driving home, windows down. I stop for a walker-bound lady to cross (I'm turning right, light green). Person behind me honks. No big deal: he just can't see the lady. Misunderstanding. Another pedestrian feels the need to comfort(?) me, says "Good job, bud" from behind an upward thumb, then tries to inform the honker of the lady's presence.

Any other day I would just shrug that off, even see it as a little patronizing. After all, I'm just obeying basic traffic laws. But he struck me while I was down. The words said to my ex boss and coworkers couldn't bear a smidgen of the meaning I felt, yet those three words from a random hit me deep in the feels in a way the speaker could never have intended. God damn it man, why did you have to say it that day, of all days, when I'm driving home from that workplace for the last time?

Class ended today. My new vocation more or less starts Monday. I hope I do a good job.