I’m going to be losing a major source of material. Yesterday, as my computer was shutting down and I was about to go home, I marched into my boss’ office, slammed the door and told him where to stick this job. Okay, that’s not exactly how it happened, but saying I went about it in a polite and calm way — and gave three week’s notice instead of the customary two since he’s going to be out next week and, well, that’s just the kind of guy I am — seems a little anticlimactic after all the ranting I’ve done. So if you want to pretend that a fistfight broke out and security kicked my keister to the curb, be my guest.

He handled it really well, as I assumed he would. From the beginning, I’ve just been a bad fit for this position and this office. This environment has never motivated or remotely interested me, and the longer I’ve spent here, the more obvious that’s become to everyone. My boss told me I was too smart for the job, and since I never intended this to be a career, that explained why maybe my secretarial skills weren’t as sharp as they could be. I wanted to say, “Thanks, I never intended to become a secretary,” but I couldn’t help thinking, “What’s wrong with my secretarial skills? I type 80 words a minute, fool!”

I don’t know where I’ll go next, but I’ll go somewhere, and I’ve reached the point where the unknown is far more enticing than the familiar. I’ve done the math, mapped out every possible direction this might lead (a long period of unemployment? the hell of temping? a desperate return to game show contestantdom?), and all of them seemed better than staying here. I guess you’re never more excited about the future than when you have no idea what it holds. And right now, I’m starting to get excited again.

Scared shitless, too, of course.

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