Goodbye, 680 N. Lake Shore Drive

December 27, 2012

After nine years, this week is my last week working at my old day job, which was located in 680 N. Lake Shore Drive, a lovely building with some historical significance. Working in that particular building had its particular ups and downs. Here’s what I will and won’t miss about working at 680:


What I Will Miss:

The very kindly evening Polish cleaning lady who always smiled at me and said “happy baby” when I was pregnant.

The cute and nice produce guy who worked in the Treasure Island who always gave me the straight dope on which fruit was good and which wasn’t worth trying out.

The dry cleaning proprietress who was nice to me but who really wanted to see my husband and who always asked when we’d start having kids until we started bringing the baby around to see her.

Having a Treasure Island, dry cleaners, pediatrician’s, coffee shop, hardware store, Walgreens, bank and salons in the building, giving me the feeling that if I ever got stranded there at work there would be worse places on earth to be.

Working in a building where residents walked their dogs through the lobby. Even if they weren’t that friendly (the residents), seeing a dog in your work building is good for the soul, especially if it’s a very happy, obese cocker spaniel who lays down when she’s tired during walks.

Being so close to the lakefront that I could go to the beach or Navy Pier on my lunch breaks or bike or jog home sometimes in the summer.

Stepping outside to see the Air and Water show practice over the lake.

While it was there, working in the same building as Playboy.

What I Won’t Miss:

Walking up or down Huron Street in the winter and feeling that blast of air from the lake either shoving me down the street or making me walk into it as my eyes watered profusely.

The stupid poky elevator system that was completely overhauled to incorporate a new keypad system that ultimately did not save a moment of time for anybody.

The lady who sat outside my office (I will also miss having an office) and clipped her nails loudly even when I sometimes said loudly and passive-aggressively, “Who is clipping their nails?!”

Waiting for the bus and silently judging all the people who clog the sidewalks to gawk at some dude standing on a milk crate who painted himself gold.

This person.

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