Today you realized you are the last generation to have a career. Not a gig, a job, or a contract but a long lasting professional arc that took you from college to retirement. As a 20 something you were just happy to have a job so you could pay off your student loans. Your folks, during any conversation, would always wedge in your employer and your job title. Your 30’s and 40’s were your corporate benefits decades. Once you picked up the spouse, kids, and house you were really suckling from the corporate teat. The work got less interesting but you convinced yourself to play the game to keep up your insurance, retirement plan, annual raises and stock grants. Root around that corporate breast and find the benefits nipple; slurp, slurp.

Each year you noticed your professional cohort thinning out. The farewell subject lines clustered into the professional “It’s been a pleasure,” the direct and disgruntled “my last day is…,” and the classic “So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish.” The content of each mail the same; it’s been great working with so many smart people, I’ve learned so much from you, please join my professional network. Where is the corporate year book for me to collect signatures? I write “Yo, Jurgen, Thanks for being a bro at that PMP certification course. Keep it real and party-hardy this summer!”

Now your career arc is accelerating down. You are no longer the go to person for your team. Your calendar is opening up. Your attendance at meetings is optional. Just recently you became a corporate eunuch by moving from consulted to informed in a key process RACI. Looking back at your career what have you really done? Have you built anything that persisted beyond a temporary corporate initiative? What exactly have you traded your time for? You do know that people really like your slides.

Today an unplanned meeting with your manager showed up on your calendar. Why is Fran* from HR sitting in on the 1:1 your manager hastily scheduled? You scan the room and see your boss avoids your gaze and Fran gives you a neutral. A manila folder sits in the desk. Frank reaches for the envelope and slides it across to you. Your day has come.

As you go through the terms of your corporate separation you think about your exit email you will send out to your colleagues, subject: Keep it real and party-hardy!
**No one is really named Fran.