Wednesday, March 23, 2005

The Second Time Around

I quit my job for the second time yesterday. I am guilty. I am sorry. I didn't mean to. I am embarassed. I don't want to do this to you. I don't know why I didn't warn you. I dreamed about my guilt last night: the meetings where they moaned and my work was distributed and I said I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. They sighed.

I can think of nothing worse than disappointing people that I like - even disappointing people that I don't like. I want to appear loyal, hardworking, mature, analytical, capable. I don't want to appear as I really am: a person who skips jobs and skips town before she even needs to buy a new pair of running shoes. You're lucky you got any notice at all because most people didn't. I was just gone. That was the best way: you got over it and hated me while I never had to face you again and could act like you disappeared. But they don't disappear. I remember all the jobs that I didn't go back to and I can remember all the messages on my machine: Where are you? We hope you're okay? Please let us know if you're coming in today. And later: You can come pick up your check. We'll mail you the check.

Now that I'm older, I don't skip out on jobs and I have compressed all my guilt over past negligence into this one time that I am leaving. This is all very boring, I'm sure, but this is what happened. I told my boss I quit. She said I was kidding. I told my boss my last day. She said I was kidding. No, I was not. She told me someone else just left her office having quit. I groaned. She said she didn't know I wasn't happy and they would have done something.

And then: I started to lie.

I said that I wasn't unhappy (I hate my job with every cell in my body) and that the changes that the company is making are good (they suck), but I'm getting older (I'm only 26) and it's time that I go after my career goals (a waitress/housekeeper at a lodge in the woods?) and the David Group just doesn't fit into those goals (the David Group can shove it up their ass). It's as simple as that.

She liked these lies. I liked these lies. And was very convincing - Not just because I believe the lies while I'm telling them (which I do) but because I borrow people's fears and worries and tell them what they need to hear: It wasn't her fault, They couldn't have done anything, and I'm not going to give a bad exit interview about her.

My last day is April 29th. Then I'm going to help my sister-in-law for a week with the new baby in Chicago (Hoping for a niece!). Then come back and start changing sheets and running drink orders under ponderosa pines on May 11th.


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