And then, it happened.

It had finally happened.

For almost six months, I had waited for the opportunity to throw in that letter.In that period, I witnessed friends, acquaintances and colleagues take the plunge. And I could only view with increasingly envious gaze.

It was inexplicably tempting to take the easy way out and settle for a low-hanging fruit. Like a ticking time-bomb, I viewed the impending graduation of the next batch of university graduates with trepidation and angst.

As the months came and went, the protracted ennui grew tiresome and tedious. It certainly did not help that my colleague who joined the office a week earlier than me, had left for greener pastures.

Interviews came and went. Hopes were raised and dashed, as simply as the capricious wave of an unseen hand.

I became obsessed with the manner with how I would leave my present job. I conjured out scenarios of how I would throw in the letter. I vicariously relished each moment of surprise when I inform my colleagues of my escape route.

And then, it happened.

The long-awaited moment arrive packaged in a nifty little phone call. A week later, I had put my name on the dotted line. A new chapter had begun, and it was time to close the existing one.

Hooray!
Or... Not?

The joy I expected to derive out of informing everyone of my impending move never came to pass. Instead, the process was fraught with hesitance, guilt and trist, far from the scintillating bursts of delight I had expected.

These were the people who have made the lackluster nature of administrative work tolerable, with a generous dose of warmth and no holds barred good-willed bi**hing.

With my letter, the Research Office had lost one person, but life grinds on with or without me. Yet I can only hope that I continue to be blessed as I have been in NUHS.