As a designer, you have to accept that more often than not, what you do is design the world’s most beautiful garbage. The nature of the work is fleeting. When I design a page I know it will exist in two places: on a hard drive somewhere in the belly of The Daily Utah Chronicle’s archives and on a few hundred pieces of paper to be stared at briefly before being discarded. It occurs to me how perfect a metaphor this is for those of us who work at the Chronicle. In an organization that’s been around for over a century, no one really makes a lasting impact. It isn’t as nihilist a thought as it may seem, but that doesn’t make it any less true. We work for a few years and are promptly replaced by another batch of wide-eyed new recruits hot off the train from elsewhere.
I’ve been here three years, and each year presents its own unique heartbreak. Each year a few of the people you’ve spent every spare moment with move on. It’s the natural cycle of things. Some you keep track of after they move on and some you don’t, but they all leave an impact. The best people I’ve ever known, I met during my time at the Chronicle and I’ve watched many of them walk out the door. Sometimes I pause to think about what my impact will be. How will the Chronicle change after I’ve left? I feel pretty confident in saying that there will be fewer puns. It’s probably also safe to assume that there will be less bitching and moaning about Daredevil’s mask and how hackish “Doctor Who” is — but I try to think past that. Ideally, I’ll mean something to others that is similar to what they meant to me.
As short as all of our time here may be, there’s something to the fleeting nature of the job. Beauty in brevity. When I walk out the side door of the Chronicle for the final time, I know it will make me sad, and I know there are people I care about who I’ll never see again. I also know it’ll bring closure. It will complete the cycle that started what seems like so many years ago when I walked in for the first time. I’ll walk out knowing that the mark I left on the Chrony is faint, but hoping the mark I left on my coworkers and friends is not. If I’m lucky, it will be half as strong as the mark made on me by the many people I’ve seen walk out that very same door.

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