I walked out. I lasted three hours. During the three hours that I attempted, four different people told me how they just quit and my ‘boss’ advised that it’s a real ‘us against them mentality’ when it comes to dealing with other areas in the organization.
Are you kidding me?
So I sat there staring blankly at financial reports and believe that I nodded off for about fifteen minutes.
Then I literally grabbed my bag and bounced. No ‘thanks very much for shooting your rays of misery at me’. No ‘it’s not me it’s seriously you…’ I simply stood up, moved my legs, and made my way out the door.
Apparently someone tried to call me. At least that’s what it seemed like when I was deleting all of my voice mails without bothering to play them back.
There has to be some other way…
The good thing is that I had an epiphany that I shouldn’t be working in Brisbane anyways… because I’m fairly confident that I should’ve been living in Melbourne like, yesterday. But don’t get me wrong… July = New York City. Come hell or high water.
Teaching writing is going to be my only saving grace. And personally, I don’t think it’s something that can be taught. There’s a lecturer at the University of Melbourne whose book I’m reading at the moment, and he seems to think the same way. I’ve decided that getting a PhD is the only thing that’s going to save me from being checked into an asylum.
It seems like lots of other crazies get them… I’ve just got to figure out how to convince them I’m one of them. Surely it’s going to be pretty evident…
… but first I need to get to Melbourne. No really. I seriously have to get to Melbourne.