Workin' It

There have been some interesting developments on the work front. Some good. Some not.

I was talking to one of my colleagues about these developments today when she said that another colleague, whose last day was today, was incredibly happy about it. I guess I must be quite lucky in that most days at least, I really do love my job enough that I'd have a hard time imagining being happy about leaving it. (Hitting the Powerball jackpot notwithstanding.)

But I do know what the giddiness of leaving a job you hate is like. That’s the situation I left at my last job.

To this day, the day that I was able to give my last managing editor (Mr. Memo) my two-week notice, is among my happiest. It felt so unbelievably good to 1) Be able to leave an ugly situation 2) Land a “real” job and 3) Watch the blood slowly drain from Mr. Memo’s face as he read the faux cover memo to my resignation letter. Yes, I have a wicked sense of humor especially toward those who deserve it at its most acerbic.

This was a man who, instead of having a conversation with you, would casually slide a memo across your desk while you were sitting behind it. And he wrote memos for d*mn near everything. It was insane. Hence, I called him Mr. Memo.

The faux memo from me had the words I QUIT and a personal note to him. In that memo I thanked him for getting me angry enough to not only utter those words but to do something to make it possible. Seeing just how big I could put the words I QUIT on a single line was one of many ways I found to console myself after issuing a self-imposed 90-day deadline in which to find another job. (In case you’re curious, bolded Arial in 158-point type leaves both words on a single line in portrait mode.) I was able to give a two-week notice with 12 of the 90 days remaining. Luck, divine intervention, and a former boss were working in my favor.

I later found out that, just an hour before, one of my reporters had also given notice so he was having a really bad day. Awww. Poor thing. *sarcasm* Call it petty, but I couldn’t help myself. It made my departure that much sweeter.

Because it felt so good, I mused that Six Flags needed to create an “I Quit (EMPLOYER’S NAME)” ride so that you could do it again and again and again … and even take others along with you.

I guess that must be how D felt today. Godspeed.