It’s nearly impossible to go back to work after any long vacation, especially after one of the Patagonia variety.
But this Monday was different.
I sat down at my desk, powered up my computer and began the daunting task of wading through hundreds of emails. I could feel that familiar anxiety begin to ooze back into my system. Suffocating. Drowning. Can’t….do….this.
*Ding de ding* Outlook popped up my reminders. Dismiss…dismiss…dismiss…what’s this? Give Two Months Notice? The skies parted, the sun came out, and I could breathe again. Sixteen months ago, I had chosen today to formally communicate my departure date of February 28, 2014. I can do this…for two more months.
I started devising email messages to send my team lead. Before I left for Patagonia, we informally discussed me quitting. Maybe it’s not the smartest thing to express your honest intentions to your lead before the holidays, bonuses and raises, but I trust and respect Patrick. He’s at least 75% of the reason I stuck around for eight years. I couldn’t spring this on him, and every time we spoke, I felt like a liar keeping a huge secret, so I told him.
He knew this was coming. I started typing. Let’s do this. Delete. It’s time. Delete. Today is the day. Delete. Writer’s block. I decided to distract myself by going through my office mail, starting with an official looking letter.
WTF?!?! A $335 traffic ticket from Tucson, Arizona for turning right on red in November!!? Well thank you SO much National Rental Car for helping the city of Tucson track me down.
Just add it to the list of other unforeseen expenses that keep popping up ever since I got real about quitting my job. In fact…maybe the universe is trying to tell me something? I mean:
I just hope my 100+ year old home makes it through the polar vortex unscathed. Not sure how much more crap I can take before the universe wins.
I grunted a miserable acknowledgement, still glaring angrily at my traffic ticket.
Patrick opened the door. “Yesss. You’re still alive.” What the heck, did everyone think I was going to die in the wilderness?
“Ha, yes. I am.”
Screw you universe. “Yes I am.”
“Alright then. Send me an email so we can get the process started.”
Well, that was easy.
And the countdown begins: 8 weeks until unemployment.