Learning to Live with 'Lasts'

While my retirement after eight years as Chevron’s CHRO is part of a long-planned succession, the A’s ownership’s decision to move the team was a surprise. Time does not make processing changes easier. The feelings I had recently at each A’s game and in Chevron meetings are the same. “This is the last time …” crossed my mind frequently, and I felt my eyes start to water.

There is a long-held belief that women should never cry at work or in public. During the pandemic, I cried late at night so I could be present and strong for others during the day. When our CFO retired earlier this year, I sat in my last meetings with him and lost my decades-long refusal to cry at work. I could not control my tears. My friend, advocate, and ally was leaving, and the sense of loss was overwhelming.

I’ve learned to embrace my feelings—to let the tears flow, strategically wipe them away, and not care if anyone notices. My close relationship with the CFO was well-known in the company. I am not ashamed to share how much I miss him and that I cried every day during his last week at work. He and other retired colleagues have taught me that our relationships extend beyond Chevron. And they have been a bridge to anticipating the wonders of life in the next chapter.

One of my retirement dreams was to be the “old lady at the ballpark.” I planned to go to almost every A’s home game—wearing a baseball hat adorned with pins and a green-and-gold satin bomber jacket—and sit in a great seat and keep score.

A few years ago, I convinced my husband to look at condominiums near where the proposed new stadium in Oakland would be built so we could walk to the ballpark. But that stadium will not be built. People who know me well share their condolences: “I am so sorry about the A’s.” 

I have no definitive plans yet of how to fill my retirement days, but I have lots of ideas. This is freeing. Maybe we will drive across America in our new camper van and watch the A’s play road games. Maybe I will “Marie Kondo” my house and do more volunteer work. Maybe I will do absolutely nothing.

When Klay Thompson, a fan-favorite star on the Golden State Warriors basketball team, departed after last season, his farewell message hit home. “The best part was not the rings,” he said. “It was the friendships I made that will last a lifetime. Don’t be sad it’s over; be happy it happened.”

I am lucky to have 50-plus years of cherished memories of going to A’s games with friends and family and 30-plus years of working with smart, humble, and well-rounded co-workers. I am sad they will no longer play an outsized role in my life, but I am happy they happened.   

Rhonda Morris is vice president and CHRO at Chevron.