So this was an eventful weekend of transition. In order:
It went really well. I met with the manager for 15 minutes and I think that part was particularly good, and then spent an hour with six of the women in the department I'd be working in. (There is a seventh but she's the friend who recommended me for the job so that would have been weird.) It was occasionally shaky; I was asked what I thought my biggest strength and weakness were and didn't have a ready answer, but by the end of the time they were telling me a few stories of their own in response to my answers.
They are interviewing five people (four now, one dropped out yesterday, having an inside knowledge base is fun) and then the top candidates will interview again with the big boss. I'm existing on the knife edge between the power of positive thinking I'll get this job and do not count your chickens before they hatch. We'll see what happens. In any case, I do need to get another interview outfit - I only have one I'm really confident in and I already wore it, and I've got notes about the way to answer some questions and questions to ask so this has definitely been a success from the getting my feet wet perspective.
We had some technical problems with the battery power on a piece of scenery the final weekend, which meant I didn't have time to get maudlin. I finally started telling people in the last week that this was it and still haven't figured out a good, short answer to the question "what's next for you".
On Sunday I had a few people asking if I was sentimental and I kept pointing out that I wasn't done yet. In the final song, however, I couldn't avoid thinking "I might never do this again", and I started to tear up. Of course it didn't help that the song speaks to my current state of being, in addition to the lyric I quoted as the subject of this entry there's the section that goes:
"Choose a door, and you're done
If your door was the right one
You won't know and that's wise
It would ruin the surprise"
So yeah. The tears made it a pain to finish calling the show (one cue was a beat late but I don't think anyone noticed but me), and I clicked out of my headset microphone to take a few deep breaths in the middle of the curtain call. I figure turning the page on a chapter of my life that has been 12 years long is worth a few tears.
Yesterday I went into my office to board up this last show, take down all of the things on my cork board, do the final deletion of cookies from my work laptop, things like that. I left my keys on the desk when I walked out. Here goes nothing.