Well it had been a long-ass time coming, but I gave my three weeks’ notice on August 8. Yup, Operation Office Space happened a day earlier than planned. I figured I’d squeeze that news in before the weekly managers’ meeting.
It was a tough call for me, but I’d been unhappy for a very long time (about 10 months). I’d lost the love a while ago, but because I’m frickin’ OCD and stubborn as hell, I was in denial: it took me forever to realize that the love just was never coming back, and I was never ever going to recover from the shit I’d seen.
Of course, the parentals started freaking out as soon as I told them my plan. They quickly scheduled a five-day trip for early September. So much for chilling out and eating bon bons in my pajamas!! Not only are they going to drive me insane, but they are going to stress me out to no end. How do I know? Um, already, every phone call with them consists of dad rattling off a list of jobs/careers/academic degrees– “you know, just suggestions– examples.” Yes, what innocent ideas!! 🙂 Ugh.
So work wraps up on August 30. After that, I’ll have a few days to get the house prepped and ready and then they arrive. Fuck. I need to start planning what the hell to do/eat while they are in town. I mean, don’t get me wrong: they are really good people with integrity and good intentions. But they are immigrants, which means in many ways, they are aliens. I am not kidding. And then when their old-school ideals are paired with mine, the intersection is a nightmare and a half. And then beyond the ideological differences, there are the lifestyle differences. They eat super healthy (no meat, only seafood), and they are all weird about recreating in nature. I’m serious: hypersensitive to sun, wind, sand, water, altitude… Yeah, they might as well live in a damn bubble. Honestly, what the fuck am I going to do with them for five days???
One idea is to take them to San Luis Obispo along the coast. We’ll just have to pack umbrellas to shield them from the sun. Maybe I’ll make them guzzle some vino, and they’ll chill the hell out. Geez, about the only thing we have in common is shopping. Guess there’s always that. I just hope they don’t push my buttons by broaching any of the following topics: my next job/career, my brother, and my barren womb by choice status. We’ll see. Cross your fingers for peace on the houseboat (yes, our house is very small, especially for four people).
But I digress. Back to Operation Office Space. Well, I gotta hand it to my manager S: I really didn’t expect this, but she tried super hard to convince me to stay: she offered to do anything I wanted– part-time, work from home, stay on while I look for my next gig, etc. I was really flattered, but in the end, I stuck to my guns. I’ve read lots of career columns where they say, if you’ve gotten to the point of handing in your letter, things are way into the danger zone. Those concessions, while nice, only buy so much time (several weeks); then, the root cause of dissatisfaction rears its ugly head again. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time, you know? Once she understood the immutability of my decision, she was so humanly understanding and supportive. I have to say, the grace with which she handled the situation, immediately bumped her way up in my book: I was really genuinely touched by her class and character. Finally, someone who fucking gets it, you know?? A rarity indeed, especially in a messed up place like that. So anyway, S announced my news agency-wide later that day. Now she’s racing to make magic happen in my final weeks. And she’s making amazing progress: I’m confident that everything will work out just fine.
Overall, I have to admit: it feels damn good to see people’s reactions when I tell them I have NOTHING lined up. Yup, it’s that serious, you all. Just let that shit marinate, for reals. Muhahahahaha! Hehe, me and my statements, right?