3/6/99

When I got to work this morning, my recycle bag was gone. I'd set up a paper bag to collect white paper in my office, so that the reams of reports and scrap we generate wouldn't just get tossed. Our new office manager is a tree hugger who doesn't know how to recycle. I thought I was being nice. So today it was gone. I turned around and looked at the schedule--all of the wusses who keep threatening to quit are still on. Within 10 minutes my two weeks' notice was in an envelope and tacked on the board for the manager.

All my friends have told me "quit, quit, quit," everyone thinks I'm nuts for staying there. Underpaid, overqualified, and treated like shit, and I insist that I can't just walk out when they're shorthanded. The note I left made mention of the fact that I'd been waiting until things were more stable, but that it had been four months since they fired the person whose job I'm doing and my school was suffering. Dick move on my part--playing the school card. I've heard managers of other departments complaining about their student employees: "She says she gotta study--what's more important?" (sneer) "school, or your job?" My own managers have totally supported school, but I just can't go to that store any more. I can't take any more people like the woman this morning who glared at me when I thought she asked for one of our weekly "eggs" and hissed, "Ad-zzzzzz-zuh!" Sorry if we call them "fliers," you leather skinned, bottle-blonde bitch. Am I the only person who hates white under-eye bags?

All day I looked at that note. And all day I looked at things in the store in a new light: "I'll never have to do this again," "That person isn't going to like me anymore." I didn't intend to quit today. It just happened; the time was right. If the time's not right anymore tomorrow, I can still take the note down before the boss gets it Monday. If I'm that much of a wiener.

Insanity: this afternoon I caught myself holding a cardboard wrapping paper tube, pointing the distant end of it into the ceiling heating vent, bellowing gutterally into the nearer end in an attempt to deafen and/or scare the fuck out of the rodent in my basement ceiling. I really need to call the landlord.