IIIIIII’m MOVINOUT!!

Festive, isn’t it? And somewhat appropriate for basically this entire existence.

Last time we met here, I was at my wit’s end; struggling to maintain a smiling, jolly-admin’s façade without so much as a hairline crack in the glaze while trying to make a silk purse out of a Jar Jar Bitch’s ear while piercing that ear with a rusty paperclip.  Well, I am officially DONE.

That is right, my fine feathered friends; DONE with a (redundant) capital “D”.  There are some changes upcoming. Major. Motherfucking. Changes.

On September 21st, 2015 I will be leaving Accounting-Office-From-(RIGHTnextdoorto-)Hell. That is right.  Done, as in out. As in GONE, sayonara; SO LONG!, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, goodnight!

It has failed to be the “good-bye” fantasy of my waking dreams. You know – storming the fuck up on OUT waving my $50,000 book-advance in one hand while I throw all the middle fingers to the sky with my other.

But I am still leaving. No book advance; no pay raise; no Mega Ball winnings.  I am just O-U-T.

But then I’m back in…  because… →→→→→→→ →→→→
I got the job in the campus Health Center!

The thing that really cinched it for me was when my boss looked me right in the eye to warn: “They’re always putting out fires over there!

And I was like “YES!” – In a word I’d much rather put out LITERAL fires THERE than suffer through another year of anxiety-inducing audits, taxes, state and local government hullabaloo, sizzling paper cuts and entitled idjits always requesting ridiculous work orders and fancy swag we wouldn’t buy for the Executive Director up in HERE!

So wish me luck. Not 100% sure what fresh hell I’m in for but at this point I am just happy for the change.

Speaking of “fresh hell” and “change”, I got to glimpse my future crazy corral on my 2nd interview. Camp was still in full swing and the waiting area, where I attempted to sit, was overrun with no less than 5 counselors with 6 kids in various stages of anarchy. One was wrestling with a CIT; 2 twirly girls were swinging around like they just licked an acid stamp; a small boy whined while waiting for ice and 3 older boys came in looking to borrow a doctor’s tackle box to go fishing at the swamp.

After witnessing a limp-wristed attempt by Dr. Useless to nip future concussions (caused by nonchalant wrestling on a polished concrete floor) in the bud by quietly bellowing, “Guys – no wrestling in the Health Center”, followed by a retreat to the back office after his emphatic whining was ignored, I knew this was the place for me! I was like “Yes! This place really needs someone like me to clean that shit right up!”

And who better than ME to whip those jokers into shape!? Come September 21st, all wrestling your social worker to the ground and repeatedly pummeling him with “love taps” and swinging your girlfriend around in circles in front of plate-glass windows and a seating area for the sick & injured will be banned.  Stay tuned for the mini rebellion…

To wrap up my time here in the Accounting Office, I typed the AED-revised version of my current position description and got to listen to the closed-door interview of what will surely be my successor. (“Surely” is a friend of a Sr. Accountant.) I cannot wait to hear what happens when I leave. And guys, however will she fare with the 5-pages-of-FUCKTHAT! on that new description!?


How does one wind up working in a position for almost 7 years where you don’t do HALF of what’s in the official description!??  I guess I do owe Jar Jar some thanks… and maybe a nice chocolate gift…

Maybe I’ll wait to hear what rumors they spread before making any kind of investment in a thank-you gift.

PEACE OUT! ♥

*Oh, pretty sure I still owe you guys a “dreams” post. 

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About LVital7019

Just your normal, everyday 9-5er. An uninspiring position in an inspirational non-profit moves me to constant goof-offery; aimless, on-the-job procrastination; a crankiness that borders on psychosis; and attempting to craft something meaningful with words. Just another so-called-job inspiring someone to feats of insanity with a hint of creativity... (Insert demonic laugh HERE.) View all posts by LVital7019

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Tony Single

artist. wastrel. a quantum of potential.

The Greenwich Village Literary Review

A magazine by writers who love to write for readers who love to read.

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