It doesn't matter that I'm financially in the toilet, because I'm no longer taking anyone's crap. Just so I don't have to keep telling and retelling how everything went down yesterday, allow me to set it down here, in the annals of j-tron's history.
With pictures.
They are worth a thousand words, after all.
Hey Rick, what's happening.
Hey, yeah, I'm going to have to go ahead and give my two week's notice.
No, I didn't take another job.
No, I don't think I would consider staying for more money.
Uh-huh. Right. You're absolutely right. No really, you make some good points.
Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Right. Oh, I'm sure. Yes I realize this is a bad time for the company. I just don't care.
So... all righty then.
Splendid. I'll be going now.
Shiver me timbers, my latent testicular powers lay dormant no longer. You know, I woke up one morning last weekend, and it dawned on me: Life might be about struggle and that's all right. But I should at least get to pick which struggles to engage in. And quite frankly, I'd rather die on the street than die of boredom. In a cubicle. Crunching numbers. Working through my lunch break again.
Every day.
For the rest of my sad, meaningless existence.
Ha!
You're not going to steal my soul, Accounts Payable.
I'm going to spend my first week of unemployment eating lunch. Three times a day: LUNCH. Have at you.
I'm on the highway to the danger zone.
And it feels real great.
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