Good Riddance Day -- or so they thought

I knew it is traditional to say goodbye formally and I had long ago accepted I had to go through the ritual -- and in style!

But I had a couple of stories to go before I finish the UP Centennial book project my director touted as my "last hurrah." Plus he sounded me off on a part-time retainer engagement to go on handling publications and publicity.

So I told HRD it was premature to hold a good riddance party, as I will still be around for some time. I made AO Din promise to hold his horses and spring no surprises.

Thus have I lately fallen into an unharried, unhurried, "ah, this is the life" rhythm of going to work twice or thrice a week, after lunch.

Last Friday afternoon, I was enjoying a leisurely glass of iced tea in our office kitchenette when JP, president of our foundation, came in. He had a meeting downstairs, he said, and had time to kill, which he seemed to want to kill by discussing his arthritis. As I gamely listened, the secretary appeared by the door to tell JP his meeting was about to begin. I stood up to go back to work but JP gripped my arm. "You have to accompany me to the meeting," he said. "I can barely walk."

Strange, I thought, as he had walked in without help. Is JP making lambing? When he tightened his grip and led me through the door, a bulb finally flashed and I began to say: "Oh, no, no, no, oh no!!! Don't do this to me. I said no surprises."

When we reached the darkened Red Room, lighted only by a projector screen with my picture on it, shadowy figures began to sing. When the lights came on, the shadows transformed into smiling co-workers, former colleagues, and members of my family.

Aloud I kept yelling: "Ang sama nyo! Hindi nyo man lang ako pinag-lipstick."

Inwardly I kept groaning: "I should have prepared a speech. Omg, how come they didn't let me prepare a speech?!"

They said a lot of good things about me that day, but how come nobody said I was beautiful and sexy?

There was a "deal-or-no-deal" quiz between kapuso (my office mates) and kapamilya (members of my family) which focused on my late-rising, late-coming-to-work, nagging-pressuring ways, and other foul deeds.

The office counterpart of Michael Buble serenaded me, but why oh why did he sing "Only You" by the Platters?

I moved my chair nearer the projector when they showed a power point presentation. Even without my glasses on, I knew those were pictures of me evolving -- from very young, to not quite young, to getting old, to absolutely old. Which reminds me I still have to find out how they got my grade-school photos. And those of Apo Andeng. They even showed pictures I didn't know existed.

They made me cut a huge cake, significantly 40 x 40 inches big, thankfully without candles.

When I stood to respond, I hemmed and hawed as is my wont, when caught flatfooted.

But I managed to say the office has been good to me. That it was not just another workplace, but the source of professional, psychological, economic, and social fulfillment. That because it trusted my meager skills, I was encouraged to develop them. That because it believed in me, I had compelled myself to lecture and speak even in international conferences -- incredible for someone who has never gotten over a chronic stage fright and public speaking jitters.

I said that in the years I'd been with the office, I had coordinated and presided over countless goodbye parties, tributes and roasts and toasts. And that now that I was for the first time at the receiving end of one, it felt fabulous. But masama pa din ang loob ko, I insisted. "Kasi hindi nyo ako pinag-lipstick and hindi nyo ako pinag-prepare ng speech."

I served notice I'd still be around for some time to come and that if they expected good riddance they were in for a disappointment. For it would take a dozen hunks and a straitjacket to yank me out from my room. I ended with my favorite cliche: "And that's a promise as well as a threat."

I didn't say publicly I had fancied myself attending my goodbye party in style.

That I fancied entering the room dramatically, in gala gown, swept-up do, and vivid make-up, having finally gotten the day before the professional facial I have never treated myself to.

That, most of all, I fancied myself standing by the podium, ready -- with a torrent of choice and unforgettable words -- to shake and rattle the tiny universe that was my office for 40 years.

I didn't get to stage the goodbye I fancied. But why was I feeling so moved and thrilled and happy?