When I joined the staff at Rite Aid last September, you were my trainer. As I navigated the tricky world of cigarette sales and cycle counts, you provided a never-ending supply of support and cheer. The more I got to know you and work with you, the more I was struck by what a genuinely kind, caring person you were. It seemed every time I turned around you were helping me bag, bringing me a copy of next week's schedule, or assisting me with my nightly chores. I remember thinking, could you be real? Could you really be as sweet and caring as you seemed? You were. And what's more, you were a great story teller. Every shift we worked together I had stitches in my sides from laughter. We got in trouble for standing around talking instead of working like we were supposed to. It was so wonderful to have someone to talk to after more than a year of isolation at home. You gave me a connection to this area, a reason to enjoy living here. Without you, I would without doubt still feel very alone. I enjoy working at Rite Aid because Rite Aid means you. And you, my dear, are a rockin' good time.
Now you are leaving Rite Aid. I know you have to take this new job opportunity - it's what's right for you and your family. I admit that I was floored when I heard - to me, Rite Aid will always mean you, even after you leave. I probably haven't handled the news as well as I should - I know I haven't, because every time I think about it, it makes me want to cry. I almost feel as though you are leaving me as much as you are leaving Rite Aid. I know it's silly, but I can't help it. I am afraid that without you there, I'll lose that feeling of connectedness, and I don't want to. I know that I can come visit you, and I hope that I will. It may be selfish, but I don't want to lose you from my life. You make me feel worthy and deserving of good things. Very few people have done that for me - thank you for being one of those few.
Thank you for making me feel as though I've come home.