I quit my fuckin job.

Yeah. I walked off my job. My boss was standing over me complaining about my performance blah blah asking why I’m not done with blah blah and I said That’s a good question, and I grabbed some items and I walked out. He asked where I was going. I went to the little library two buildings over and sat in a chair and trembled. My girlfriend had my car so I was on foot. I tried to yelp me a taxi, but they were all so far away. The closest one did not answer. I smoked several cigarettes outside. It was very humid. I called my girlfriend and I kind of whimpered my situation and she said she was coming to get me. My boss text msgd me:

Hey! Don’t worry about I know I’ve put you under huge pressure; let’s talk tomorrow in the office or call me any time day or night

I responded, saying the progress notes on my latest project were in bla blah folder.

I’m scared. But, I was scared sitting there in that job too…worse. Every minute every hour I wondered if and when they would fire me or chew me out.

It’s the hardest job I ever had. It’s the hardest thing of any kind I ever did. I don’t know what I’ll do next.

Maybe I’ll just tell them I want to be on vacation now. I have a hundred and fifty hours vacation time accrued. Vacation, and I’ll just never come back. I’ll be in a temp job in a week or so. Pay will be low, but the work will be easy.

This…is my pattern. Only, this time, I have been at this job seven years.

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About HappyApathy

It eels what it eels.
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