“You’re killing me man” he said as I stood in the doorway of his office.
I had submitted my resignation the week before, but it was spring break, and he was out of town.
I had dreaded this conversation. This was the profession I always wanted. These were people I had known and respected for many years. But the future of NASA’s manned space program looks grim, and in my telecommuting position it felt like having my head in the sand not to be planning for something more solid, something more certain, something else.
Then in February, things fell into place and something else came along. They talked to me. I talked to them. They liked me. I liked them. They made an offer. I accepted. And then I submitted my letter of resignation.
I should have given them more time, but events conspired against me. So it looked a bit like I was just up and leaving.
“You’re killing me.”
He looked up with a grim smile on his face. He was busy. I was there for a meeting. He stood up. We shook hands and spoke only briefly.
By the end of the day, the word would be generally out, and there would be two weeks to go.
That was about a month ago.