The Tales of Target: Episode 11
Today I’m feeling nostalgic. As my time in Oregon comes to a close, with a new adventure, new school, and new state awaiting my arrival, the “goodbyes” have begun. As my George Fox friends start to travel home for winter break, I have had to say goodbye. Not a “See you after break!” goodbye, though. A “I’m moving, it’s been good, it’s been fun” goodbye.
I’m not good with change. I know, most people aren’t, but I’m really not good with change. And a lot of change is happening around me right now. This week I had to say goodbye to my best friend, whose plane left Tuesday, taking her home. On Wednesday I had my last class ever with my favorite professor (hi Melanie, I know you’re reading this, and it’s true). On Thursday I said goodbyes to several very close friends, as well as long time teammates.
School is sad right now. So Target is my escape, right?! That’s what I thought too. WRONG. When I came into work last Sunday I walked past my HR’s office and slowed down to wave as I always do. To my surprise the door was closed, and her name plaque was no longer there. Well clearly someone stole her office? Or someone kidnapped her? Or perhaps the old name plate broke? Oh! I know she just got married, they just need to update the last name? Or perhaps the aliens came down and… my panic must have been clear because as I stared at the door giving myself every reason to believe she wasn’t leaving, my boss came up behind me and broke the news: “Brittany got promoted, tomorrow is her last day.”
The aliens, it must be the aliens. That was a far better reason for the empty office than Brittany, my HR, my work mom, and friend leaving me. Especially during a week that I knew was going to be full of goodbyes already.
I call Brittany Mom. I think everybody has a “mom” that’s not really their mom but they have some story that they could go into that would explain the title. Well, Brittany earned the title not because she has Bandaides in her purse, or because she takes care of drunk friends at a party like so many Mom-stories involve. Brittany dealt with my seizure of Episode 8, she called my parents, wrangled the troops, and kept me safe. She also did all the piles of paperwork Target requires post Shakey Shake on the property. Not only that, but when I got a papercut and managed to get a random guest’s blood in it (ew, I know) she sat with me in the Urgent Care while they tested my blood (that’s a whole other story, let me tell you). As well as all the paper work that incompasses that. My journey at Target has been a crazy one. She was also the HR that hired me not once, twice, but three times. It’s safe to say The Tales of Target wouldn’t be here without her.
(Also, fun side story: Brittany is wildly invested in astrology, and I, however, am not. I didn’t know what a Virgo was — let alone that I was one — until she told me I was. One of the first times I ever talked to her, she asked me what my sign was. After discovering I was a Virgo, her response was “Hm, I don’t usually like Virgos.” Harsh.)
I miss you already, Mom. I will let you read all these blogs now that you can’t fire me for my shananagines. I will still convince myself that it was the aliens, though, so I don’t have to admit you left me.
