Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out

Over my 26-year policing career, I worked with hundreds of people across three organizations and six different communities, municipal policing and the RCMP. With that many transitions, I’ve seen almost every reaction imaginable when someone leaves a unit or moves to a new posting.

Some departures were celebrated with speeches and cake. Some were quiet handshakes in hallways. And some were so uneventful that you’d hardly know someone had spent years of their life there.

But I’ll never forget the first time I heard someone say: “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”

A colleague and I had met for coffee shortly after he’d been transferred to a new location. It was a move he had wanted, one he had competed for and genuinely looked forward to. But sitting across from me, he looked sad, distant, almost defeated. When I asked what was wrong, he hesitated, then everything poured out at once.

He’d spent over ten years in the same office. Ten years of calls, files, inside jokes, late-night shifts, and shared trauma. On his last day, a few people wandered by, offered a handshake or a quick “good luck,” and that was it. No formal goodbye. No card. No gathering. Just an ordinary day that happened to be his last.

In his words, the experience felt “uninspiring.” He had quietly hoped for something more, some gesture that his contributions, friendships, and service had meant something. Instead, it felt like the message was, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

I did feel for him. It hurts when what you hoped for doesn’t materialize. But I also believe one of the greatest gifts you can give someone in those moments is honesty, kind, grounded, perspective-shifting honesty.

So I reminded him that this wasn’t the end of his career, not by a long shot. He wasn’t retiring, he wasn’t leaving policing, and he wasn’t cutting ties with the organization. He was simply moving locations, just like dozens of people he had watched come and go over the years.

Then I asked him a question: “What did all those other people get for a send-off?”

His face changed immediately. He already knew the answer. Reality checks can be uncomfortable, but they bring clarity fast.

And then I shared something I had to remind myself of multiple times: when I changed organizations, when I stepped into leadership roles, and most sharply when I retired.

People focus on what affects them—professionally and personally.

Not because they lack compassion, but because life moves quickly. Work moves quickly. The emotional space we take up in people’s daily lives is often tied to our role, our proximity, and the rhythm of the job.

Sometimes the next person is moving into your office before you’ve even finished packing. Sometimes you tell someone you’re leaving and their first response is, “So… who’s getting your job?”

It stings. But it’s rarely malicious.

As Robert Frost said so simply and so perfectly: “I can describe Life in three words- It goes on.”

And it does.

In policing and many work environments, some relationships feel incredibly close, intense, bonded, “family-level” close, right up until the day you’re no longer in the same environment.

Then you learn which connections were rooted in the person, and which were rooted in the position. When I retired, I felt that shift sharply. A handful of colleagues stayed connected for a while. A smaller group stayed for good. And that’s how I learned who was meant to walk with me into the next chapter.

Some people aren’t meant to come with you.

Some simply can’t.

Some were only ever meant to be part of a particular season of your life.

And that’s okay.

Be grateful for what they brought to your life while your paths ran parallel. Honour the memories but don’t hold people hostage in them.

Let them go when the chapter ends.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth we often avoid: While you might feel hurt that someone seemed to “write you off” when you left, you’ve likely done the very same thing to others, without realizing it. We all leave people behind as our lives shift and evolve.

Transitions have a way of showing you who’s truly walking beside you, and who was only ever walking near you.

Life goes on. But most importantly….so will you.

A Note as I Begin My Next Chapter

This theme identity, transition, and the relationships that stay or fall away is one I explore deeply in my upcoming book Tightrope, which will be available next week!!

Writing it has reminded me again and again that endings aren’t failures, they’re invitations to grow into the next version of yourself.

And I hope this story encourages you to do the same.