Some things aren't true until you say them...

02.16.2009 - 2:39 p.m.

This is going to sound a bit silly, considering that I am thirty years old, but until this morning, I�d never had to give notice. It�s not that I�ve been sitting on my ass�I�ve been pretty much constantly employed since the summer I was thirteen, just before I was old enough to get a work permit. It�s just that all I�ve ever done is work as a student, when everyone always knew I�d leave when I graduated, or when the summer ended, or when the semester ended. All I�ve ever done after that is work nine years in the day job I have now, where I am still working. The weekend receptionist gig I picked up when my husband got laid off has been the only job I�ve ever taken without a pre-set end date.

I�d been thinking of quitting for a while� since the holidays, really, when we stopped having any days off together at all, but also before that, when I wasn�t sure it was a possibility. I�m still not entirely sure it�s wise, financially speaking. But I�d admitted to myself that it was crazymaking, which trumps finances. Right? I still can�t quite let go of it. I needed the job, back then, because I was going to go insane if I left myself to fate, if I didn�t *do something* other than wait for the money situation to magically get better. But now it has.

Now, I�m figuring that having the day�s extra energy to use on cooking and grocery shopping smart will match or outweigh my pitiful salary there, and the extra day�s freedom will let me accomplish more with less of a rush, but I�m still feeling weird about it. You don�t let an employer down, not the way I was raised. (I gave two weeks, which isn�t letting them down, but you explain that to my workaholic alter-ego�s conscience, will you?)

I even had nightmares, last week, after I�d decided to leave but before I�d got up the courage to do it. Hello? Thirty years old, nightmares about quitting a job making less than I did in high school. Thirty years old, sitting in my car daring myself to go in and do it. Afterwards, thirty years old, and the coat I�m wearing doesn�t fit and the car I�m driving away is still a shitbox, also outclassed by its high school counterpart.

But at least I don�t work weekends anymore.

-stonebridge

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