If you truly loved me, you would already know that exactly one month and a few days ago, I quit my lucrative job as an employed person to embark (pun intended… because that’s the name of the place I worked, see?) on a new life as a hobo clown (or similar). The following is the email I sent to my beloved colleagues shortly before walking out of their lives forever.
To whom it may concern:
When I arrived here in summer of aught six, it was a different era. Embark was known by another name, and I was but a boy taking my first tentative steps into the world. We’ve grown a lot over the years. We shared laughter and tears. Bagels and beers. Other things that rhyme with ears. And now it is time for us to part ways. At last, I am a man.
I know none of you as well as I should, and well of you as should as I none (if you take my meaning, and I think you do). Why is that? I blame potatoes, but perhaps it was the Industrial Revolution. Disirregardlessly, there’s no use analyzing it now. What’s done is done. Now is the time for fond memories and crocodile tears and laters alligators. (Note: DO NOT wrestle alligators. It is not as easy as it looks.)
In the words of the great forgotten circus act, Fran the Semi-Amazing Man: ‘We have nothing to fear except things that are scary.’ No hairier person has ever spoken truer words. Take heart, my colleagues! For it is only when bees make honey that the trees may bear fruit (pollination). Likewise, it is only in my leaving, that some other unrelated stuff may happen. So you see, this is a time of opportunity and hashbrowns (metaphor).
If you want to email me for some reason, do: [super-secret personal email address removed by editor]. If you want to Facebook me, foo: [super-publicly-available Facebook URL removed by editor]. If you want to Twitter me, twoo: http://twitter.com/thisisconlan. And if you want sporadic updates on all my hilarious misadventures, you can read my blog. The link is easy to find if you’re actually interested (and if you are, you may want to reevaluate the direction your life has taken).
I will miss each and every one of you, except for three of you. Thanks, Embark, for the memories and the well-wishes. And the paychecks.
I will be around for a little while longer, in case you want to present me with gifts (cash accepted and encouraged), stock up on my outdated business cards, or give me an Obama-style fist-bump for the road.
P.S. There are not actually three of you I won’t miss. It was a joke. Don’t be so sensitive.
I don’t think I have to tell you it provoked more than a few tears.