What a Day of Closed Chapters and A New Book Being Opened
What a day of closed chapters and new books being opened.
Today was my official last day at Woolworths Runaway Bay Shopping Village, and the end of serving the community for almost thirteen years in total. When I walked out, it was a mix of emotions—nostalgia, relief, gratitude, and something harder to name. Not sadness exactly. Not excitement alone. Something in between. Something that only comes when a long season ends and you realise how much of yourself was shaped in a place you once thought was just a job.
I stood there for a moment before leaving. Not dramatically. Not like a movie scene. Just a quiet pause. Looking around without trying to make it a moment… but feeling it anyway.
Because the truth is, that centre—Runaway Bay Shopping Village—was never just a workplace for me.
It was a school.
I didn’t sign up for it like you would a course or a degree. There was no orientation that said, “This place will shape your character.” No one hands you a manual for how to grow through retail. But over time, it happens anyway.
You show up. You clock in. You deal with people.
And slowly, quietly, life starts teaching you.
I worked across different stores over the years—Target Australia, TerryWhite Chemmart, and finally Woolworths Supermarkets. Different uniforms. Different systems. Different teams. But the same underlying current running through all of it:
People.
People at their best.
People at their worst.
People tired, kind, angry, generous, impatient, broken, joyful.
Sometimes all in the same shift.
Retail has a way of exposing reality in its rawest form.
You see the kindness that doesn’t get filmed or posted online. The quiet customer who says thank you like it actually means something. The regular who remembers your name. The elderly person who just wants a conversation because no one has spoken to them all day.
You also see the other side.
Frustration that spills over into words it shouldn’t. Pressure from life that gets projected onto whoever is standing closest—which, in retail, is often you. Moments where you realise people are carrying things far heavier than groceries.
And sometimes, both happen within minutes of each other.
That contrast… it does something to you.
If you let it, it can harden you.
But if you sit with it—really sit with it—it teaches you something deeper:
That every person walking through those automatic doors is living a life you can’t see.
And that alone changes how you respond.
Thirteen years.
When you say it out loud, it sounds like a long time. But when you live it, it happens quietly. One shift at a time. One roster at a time. One season blending into the next.
There were years where I was just trying to get through.
There were years where I was growing and didn’t even realise it.
There were seasons of personal struggle, seasons of healing, seasons where I was figuring out who I was—and all of it happened while scanning items, stocking shelves, helping customers, and just showing up.
That’s the thing people don’t always see.
Growth doesn’t only happen in big, visible moments.
Sometimes it happens in repetition.
In consistency.
In showing up when you don’t feel like it.
In learning how to carry yourself when no one is watching.
My Mum and the Weight of Legacy
There’s another layer to this that makes it harder to walk away from.
My mum, Dizy, worked at Target Runaway Bay for 25 years.
Twenty-five years.
That’s not just employment. That’s legacy.
That’s time invested into a place that becomes part of your story whether you intend it to or not.
So when I say I’ve spent thirteen years in that centre, it’s not just my time.
It’s part of a larger thread.
A family thread.
A bloodline that, in some quiet way, was woven into that place through years of work, resilience, and showing up.
You don’t just walk away from that without feeling something.
If I’m honest—and I want this to be honest—today wasn’t just exciting.
It was bittersweet.
Because growth often is.
You can be stepping into something better and still feel the weight of what you’re leaving behind.
You can be ready for a new chapter and still honour the one that shaped you.
That tension… it’s real.
And I don’t think it needs to be fixed or rushed past.
I think it needs to be acknowledged.
New Chapter: Gold Coast University Hospital
On Monday, I step into a completely new environment—Gold Coast University Hospital.
A different world.
A different level of responsibility.
A different kind of emotional landscape.
And if I’m being honest, there’s a level of unknown that comes with that.
But it doesn’t feel like starting from zero.
It feels like carrying everything I’ve learned into a new space.
Because the lessons from retail don’t disappear.
They transfer.
Patience
Awareness
The ability to read people
The ability to stay grounded under pressure
These aren’t small things.
These are foundational.
Runaway Bay Shopping Village wasn’t glamorous.
It wasn’t where people expect life transformation to happen.
But for me… it did.
It formed parts of me I didn’t even know were being shaped.
It exposed weaknesses.
It strengthened character.
It forced me to grow in ways that weren’t always comfortable.
And looking back now, I can say this clearly:
It wasn’t wasted time.
Not a single year.
Faith in the Background
There were moments—quiet ones—where my faith carried me through shifts more than anything else.
Moments where I had to check my reactions.
Moments where I had to step back internally and choose how I was going to respond instead of reacting out of frustration or emotion.
Moments where I remembered:
Not as a slogan.
Not as something to post.
But as something real, in the middle of ordinary life.
Because faith isn’t only for the big moments.
It’s forged in the everyday.
You Don’t Always See Growth While You’re In It
This is something I’ve realised more clearly today than ever before.
While you’re in a season, you rarely see the full picture.
You’re too close to it.
Too involved in the day-to-day.
But when you step out…
When you pause…
When you walk away and look back…
You start to see the shape of what was being built.
Gratitude Without Romanticising
I’m grateful.
Deeply grateful.
But I’m not going to romanticise everything.
There were hard days.
Frustrating days.
Moments I wanted to quit.
Moments I questioned everything.
But that’s part of the story too.
And without those moments, the growth wouldn’t have been the same.
Turning the Page
So here I am.
End of one chapter.
Start of another.
And there’s something powerful about that.
Because life doesn’t stop.
It moves.
Chapters close.
New ones begin.
And sometimes you don’t fully understand the weight of a chapter until it’s finished.
Final Reflection
If I had to sum today up honestly, it would be this:
I didn’t just leave a job.
I walked out of a season that quietly built me into someone stronger, more aware, and more grounded than when I first walked in.
And now, I carry that into what’s next.
Not perfectly.
Not with everything figured out.
But with a deeper understanding of who I am and what I’ve come through.
A New Chapter Begins
Monday isn’t just a new job.
It’s a new chapter.
And for the first time in a long time, I can feel it clearly:
I’m ready to turn the page.
About the Author
Dylan Verdun Sullivan is the founder of Refined by Fire Press and an Australian author indexed in the National Library of Australia. As a Level 7 Local Guide with over 1.7 million views on Google Maps, he documents the intersection of faith, recovery, and the light found in ordinary places.
- Read the Memoir: Kissed by Death on Amazon
- Explore the Journey: Follow Dylan on Google Maps
- Connect on Instagram: @porkysparadise
Comments
Post a Comment