So a woman I used to work with stopped by the store about an hour ago. She was the old assistant manager until that position dissolved into manager and was given to someone else and she’s since moved onto another art bookstore and is the manager there. She’s doing very well. She looked good. Glowing, flawless skin, stylish threads and everything. After she dropped by I couldn’t stop smiling. Everyone does well after they quit. They move onto managerial positions at art bookstores and galleries and Columbia Graduate School and working marketing at Tiffany’s. They look better and feel better. They smile and laugh more. Their skin clears up. Their chances of a heart attack or stroke diminish to 0%. You get where I’m going with this.
That’s why I’m quitting. This is my last day. The last supper. Haven’t told anyone yet and I like it better that way. I’ve been going through the motions today like I always do just thinking of everything I can do and everything I will do once I leave. I can’t stop smiling. I’m so fucking excited. I’ll slip my key into the drawer this evening, close the draw, shut down the computer, turn off the lights, set the alarm, walk out, lock the door, go to Gourmet Garage for some trail mix and be done with this place.
Not to say that I’m not thankful. I never thought this job would last for almost a year. I was only supposed to work for a month. But this needs to end now. This is a great place to buy a book but you can only work here for so long before you want to take that box cutter and…you get where I’m going with this.
Well, I have to go. It’s 5:00 so two more hours to go :)
