I stayed on
after leaving the job,
which, in hindsight,
was my first mistake.
There I was,
taking minutes,
being useful,
being mature,
when someone mentioned
how wonderfully
my successor was doing.
Good for him.
Truly.
Delighted.
Perhaps, however,
we could save
the comparative performance review
until I am no longer
sitting at the table.
For a while
I wondered
whether the comment
was malicious
or merely
spectacularly insensitive.
Then I got angry.
Then philosophical.
Then, naturally,
I googled
existentialism.
Apparently
the crisis begins
when we keep giving meaning
to something
that no longer
has meaning for us.
Well.
That seemed
uncomfortably relevant.
Perhaps the universe
was not asking me
to discover
the meaning of life.
Perhaps it was simply
suggesting
I stop taking minutes.