Quitting My Job

Right now I am having a standoff. A standoff with the man. I quit my job, well sort of. By my count I should have already been at work for an hour but here I am, not bathed, playing on the interwebs, and enjoying every moment of my purloined freedom. So I guess by "quit my job" I mean I didn't go in and am not answering my phone like a coward.

The job itself wasn't terrible, but it wasn't nice. It was a lot of things —annoying, happening when I wanted to be asleep— but those things are natural for a job of this kind. What was intolerable was that everyone took it very seriously. In my experience, if I got the job done and done well, that was it. Go home. Here everyone likes making sure that the way I do my job is exactly like theirs, even if their methods are contradictory. And don't get me wrong, I bend. If one person tells me to do something one way, I do it. Case closed. Here, though, following one person's orders would get me yelled at by another. This whole process involves me being watched a lot. Also, there is no camaraderie between fellow underlings. It seems that everyone was far more likely to go suck up to the boss than to rise up against him or at least subvert him. To hell with this job.

Minutiae aside, this job was making me feel bad. I never came to hate my co-workers so quickly before. Therefore, I am not going in today and have not even called to say why. Okay so I'm not exactly doing anything brave or nice or even really warranted. I'm just doing what I have to do.

Right now I am watching my phone not blink because it is not on. I imagine there are a lot of angry calls coming in and my voicemail is filling up with loathing rants but I'll contend with that later. For now I have the whole day to waste as I please.