Today marked a significant milestone in my professional journey â my exit interview, scheduled at 9 AM.
Thereâs something symbolic about an exit interview. Itâs not just the last formal task before leaving a company; itâs a moment where you pause, look back, and truly take in what this chapter of your life meant. Walking into it, I had assumed Sir Chino, my direct supervisor, would be the one to conduct it. I had mentally prepared for the weight that might come with a more personal discussion. But instead, it was Ms. Pat from HR who facilitated the session.
Oddly enough, I felt relieved. Not because I had anything difficult to say, but because her presence made the whole process feel neutral, balanced, and more manageable. Ms. Pat carried herself with a calm professionalism, but also a quiet warmth â the kind that makes you feel like itâs okay to be honest, to be vulnerable, to speak with both clarity and kindness.
The interview itself involved a lot of rating-based questions â scales from 1 to 5 on everything from work environment and leadership, to personal development, communication, and management. It felt procedural on the surface, but each question tugged at specific memories: the late nights, the last-minute tasks, the unexpected wins, and the steady rhythm of teamwork that got me through it all.
I found myself giving mostly 5s. Not because I wanted to appear polite or avoid critique, but because I truly felt content and grateful for what I had experienced. And when the question about colleagues came up, without hesitation, I said â6.â The scale only went up to 5, I know â but it just slipped out. A little, unintentional rebellion against the formality of the form, but a sincere expression of how much they meant to me. The people I worked with werenât just co-workers â they were my support system, my sounding board, my daily rhythm. It was in the small things: shared inside jokes during lunch breaks, stepping in for each other without question, and celebrating wins â both personal and professional â like a true team.
As the interview drew to a close, I felt a strange mix of emotions â relief, nostalgia, a quiet pride, and a touch of sadness. I reflected on how far Iâd come: the challenges I faced and learned from, the roles I grew into, the doubts I worked through, and the confidence I slowly built. It was humbling to realize how much this role, this team, this experience had shaped me â not just as a professional, but as a person.
What struck me most was how human the exit interview felt. It wasnât just about gathering data or checking boxes. It was a space for closure â a rare moment in the fast-paced world of work to pause, speak, and be heard. Ms. Pat listened with sincerity, and I left that virtual room not just feeling like I had closed a door, but that I had been acknowledged â that my presence, my work, my growth had mattered.
And so, as I walk away from this chapter, I do so with immense gratitude â for the role that challenged me, the mentors who guided me, the colleagues who stood by me, and the quiet moments that made it all meaningful. Today wasnât just an end â it was also a beginning. The horizon is wide open now, full of unknowns, and thatâs okay. Because endings like these are not about loss â theyâre about making room.
Hereâs to growth, to lessons learned, and to all the possibilities still waiting.
My nephew was over the moon with excitement. He got to ride the paddle boat, the train, and the carousel. We also joined him on the train ride, which was a lot of fun and gave us a great view of the park. The sun was blazing, but it didnât deter anyone from enjoying the day. Everywhere we looked, families were having picnics, kids were running around, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and joy.
