my way
January 15 last year I left my job of five years and closed my NY journey in one fell swoop clocking out at 6:30PM and catching the Amtrak to Baltimore at 11PM.
The night before, I’d gone to SoulHub hosted by Branigel and faced the cold and wind for a beautiful night of music from some dope friends. There I also heard - for the first time - “My Way” covered by the beautiful and talented Ayah Abdul. The softness with which she sung it stayed in my mind, drawing me to listen to the original song.
Now, I love me a good piece about death - see “Fly as a Flower”, “Towards the Sky My Light” - and “My Way” made me cry as I ended up back home. The song encapsulated everything I wanted to say about life and being satisfied with the ups and downs and doing things on my own terms. My grandmother raised me to always keep my dreams front and center and to not let anyone play me. I made a promise to myself after moving back to Florence from Laurel in 2011 that I would never made myself feel stuck again and I’ve mostly kept that promise to myself - hence leaving my dead end job of five years.
It’s no secret I wasn’t happy in my last two years working Apple Retail. Creatives in retail were being ignored by our retail peers, by retail management, by corporate, and by customers in the store. Talented artists, musicians, photographers, filmmakers, and more were reduced to Airpods salespeople while the genius - pun intended - we were hired to showcase was restricted to simple iPhone/iPad basics that one could learn from watching a video on YouTube. It wouldn’t have been so terrible if I was able to convert from full-time to part-time, but the inability to do so seemed to just be more a sign from God that it was - as I wrote in 2021 - “time to leave”. And so on January 4, I went in a room with my immediate manager who I respected even though I hated the constant bullshit I was fed, and asked if there was anything I could’ve done to save my career. Mostly because I love drama and a dramatic exit. Then I put in my 11 days.
Two days before I left, I wrote a letter to the entire store team reminding them of their value as people and sharing the love I had for most of them. But even more, it was an open message that I was very well aware of how I’d been played and that my experience ought to be a warning sign. The next day I was off. And the day after, I came back for my last day, to smile and ki in the face of those who thought I’d bitch and call out. I wanted my indignance to be seen. And it was. Several colleagues sent their congrats, but even more, many expressed how they wished they could express the sentiments I did. I declined an exit interview. I said what I said in the email.
And so at 6:30, January 15th, I clocked out and exited without the typical clapout. My clapout at Bay Plaza was wack. Didn’t get one at Towson. And the only real clapout I recognize in Corte Madera, where Nafesah played “Before I Let Go” from Beyonce’s Homecoming on the HomePod. And what was the first song I played on the train ride to Utica Ave? (see title) What was the first song I played as the train departed from Moynhihan Train Hall to Baltimore Penn Station? (see title).
And as I write this message from Chicago, with the smell of fresh dinner cooking, on a Zoom talk about this magazine I’ve been working with for a year now, listening to the traffic and watching the lakefront of South Shore Drive, I am thankful. Chicago was a dream of mine for so long since that summer 10 years ago. I thought my former job would’ve brought me here. I’d tried twice - once in 2019 and again in 2021. But that didn’t work.
Yet, still, I made it. I’m here now on my own terms by my own merit. And even though my time here will wrap in three weeks - by choice - I’m living my life with the most control and I feel valued in how I work. Look at that. Regrets, I’ve had a few. I planned each charted course with the utmost intention. I faced it all. I stood tall. And did it my way.