Oh oh oh. I feel weepy. I flew back from Seattle last night/this morning. I had about three hours sleep on the plane. As I was getting on the plane, I realized that I had neglected to take the keys for the rental car off the keyring that holds the keys to my apartment, for work, etc. It was too late to do anything then but get on the plane. I called when I landed in New York, and the nice lady I spoke to at the rental car place was useless. Hopefully I'll be able to work this out. All they have to do is drop the keys in a Fedex envelope and send it to me. That's all.

(I opened a Fedex account number this morning. I'm somebody...)

So this afternoon was my going away party. I was a wee bit nervous going into it. And woozy from only three hours sleep. So I was presented with a gift. A black football jacket, wool with leather sleeves, that says 'Lower East Side Harm Reduction Center' on the back in white lettering. It's beautiful. Really, really beautiful. I'm really moved by this.

Then, I came back to the office and I was reviewing my email from when I was away. (Thankfully, there isn't a lot.) Among the stuff sent my way, I found the minutes of a board/staff meeting that was held on Friday, in my absence. The staff here was given an opportunity to share what they wanted in a new Executive Director. Here's the list...

• Understands and believes in harm reduction
• Isn’t an egomaniac, and understands the agency belongs to all of the staff!
• Is inclusive and willing to work in the direction the agency is already going in
• Builds on the vision established for the agency
• Isn’t afraid to challenge the system
• Is as comfortable working behind the exchange counter as working on a budget
• Has a history of dedication, commitment, and community activism against HIV
• Empowers the staff, as “good leaders create leaders”
• Keeps the mission focused on where we come from
• Respects the grassroots part of who we are
• Has experience in harm reduction and drug use issues
• Knows how to work the system/bureaucracy to get funding, so we can support our programs (and our staff) and also grow and diversify our programs
• Ready to roll up their sleeves and partner with the entire staff (with the understanding that sometimes this involves unplugging the toilet!)

Yes, that's right. Unplugging the toilet. Before we moved to our fabulous new space, we occupied three ratty storefronts on Avenue C. In the rear of each storefront was a bathroom. The plumbing was rotten. One toilet in particular, in the bathroom used most frequently by our clients, was always clogging up. Standard procedure was to put an out-of-order sign on the door and call the plumber. For a clogged toilet! Unbelievable. Don't these New York City apartment raised folks know how to operate a plunger? Well, let a Pennsylvania farm boy show you how it's done. Trouble is, there seemed to be a reluctance to learn after I decide to... uh... plunge in. So, I'd be sitting at my desk and I'd get a call: "The toilet's clogged up again. Could you come over and fix it?" It was that or spend $200 to have a plumber come, so off I'd go. As I was doing my duty, I'd be saying in a stage whisper, "When the toilet's clogged over at GMHC, it isn't Ana Oliveira that gets the phone call. I bet that Keith Cylar and Charles King don't unplug the toilets at Housing Works. You think that Elsa Rios unclogs the toilets at the HIV Law Project? I don't think so. 'Gee, what's it like being the Executive Director of the Lower East Side Harm Reduction Center?' Well, I'll tell ya, always make sure your plunger is handy."

Why in God's name didn't I tell some member of the staff to do that? Well, years and years ago, I worked in Mother's Restaurant in New Hope, Pennsylvania. Mother's was then owned by Joey Luccaro and Stephanie Weiser. One night--a really busy Friday night--one of the waitresses called back into the kitchen, 'Tell the dishwasher that the bathroom needs a mop." So this poor kid grabs the mop and heads to the bathroom. Minutes later, he returns and says to Stephanie (who happened to be the boss on the premises), "Uh uh. No way. You can fire me. I'm not gonna do that." Stephanie and staff went to investigate. A customer's colostomy bag had burst, and the contents were splattered everywhere. So, Stephanie took off her jewelry, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work with disinfectant and a sponge. She told the dishwasher, "I would never ask you or anyone else to do anything that I wouldn't do myself. If you could help me clean this up, I'd appreciate it." And so they worked together.

I wasn't there that night to witness that, but I only heard my fellow employees speak of Stephanie with absolute admiration and respect afterwards. From that moment on, there was nothing she couldn't ask from us that we wouldn't do.

And that's the kind of boss I've tried to be.

So it gets me right there that the staff listed cleaning the toilet as a qualification of my successor.

*sigh* It's not gonna be easy to leave this place.