I gave my two weeks notice at Stupid Pepsi last Monday.  After passing my drug screening, and receiving my copy of the background check that told me I am the most boring person who ever lived; I knew it was only a matter of time before I got the formal job offer from the job that will rid me forever of the phrase “I see you do very well with…”

 Finally, with 30 minutes left of my shift that fateful day, I got the voicemail offering me the job.  I did a ridiculous little hopping dance in the coatroom where I sneak off to check voicemails when I’m supposed to be working (no more!), and booked it out to the sales floor to make my leaving official and not just a beautiful dream.

 When I told my supervisor, the look of shock on her face was absolute.  Finally, after an incredibly awkward pause that I felt I should fill, but didn’t know with what since I’d said all I really had to say, she managed a completely incredulous, “Why?”  Considering that I had accidentally said to her about a week before that I needed to get a real job, I found her total surprise a little over-the-top.

 What I said was, “I found a new job.”  What I thought was, Do you not know that this job sucks?  Why would you be surprised that someone wants to leave?  Maybe she was surprised that I was actually giving notice instead of just not showing.  Maybe she’s a complete moron who actually thinks this is a good job for someone with a Master’s degree.  Maybe she likes what she does and wakes up in the morning without thinking: I can’t believe this is what I have to do all day.  I want to die.  Is anyone that simple?

 “I’m sorry.”  I told her.

“We’ll miss you.” she said as I walked back to my cubicle.

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