That’s about it, folks.  I said I’d be out by noon, and I was only about thirty minutes over that limit. I’ll give it to big boss: even in the face of being caught in lie after lie after lie, she never once lost her cool or faced reality.  I mean, this was some pathological type shit here.  Or an absurdist drama.  Or all of the above. So now, a Whole Foods lunch later, and my last commute home, it looks like that’s a wrap.  I’d like to thank everyone who’s stuck behind me through this assault on reason, and proof that there might not be a God, because it’s always better to laugh than to cry.  There’s plenty of story left, but I think I’m finished typing it up here.  It’s time to bury it. Good night, and good luck.

That’s about it, folks.  I said I’d be out by noon, and I was only about thirty minutes over that limit.

I’ll give it to big boss: even in the face of being caught in lie after lie after lie, she never once lost her cool or faced reality.  I mean, this was some pathological type shit here.  Or an absurdist drama.  Or all of the above.

So now, a Whole Foods lunch later, and my last commute home, it looks like that’s a wrap.  I’d like to thank everyone who’s stuck behind me through this assault on reason, and proof that there might not be a God, because it’s always better to laugh than to cry.  There’s plenty of story left, but I think I’m finished typing it up here.  It’s time to bury it.

Good night, and good luck.

So non-boss called me on Tuesday to tell me not to come in Wednesday, because big boss and sub-boss had extended their trips.  I knew this was bullshit, and was confirmed when fellow lemmings informed me that they had spent Wednesday calling people in individually to let them know what a bad man I was, and that Thursday, today, would be my last day.  Hey, I’m cool with this, because I don’t want to go in anymore, I can get my new iPhone nice and early on Friday, and I can file for unemployment, not in seriousness, but in sheer pain-in-the-assness. So I’ve got something of a cold, so I sleep in a bit, because who cares what time I come in on my last day?  I’m on the train, give a call to non-boss to let her know I’ll be an hour or so late.  No big deal.  Back to 2666 and “The Part About the Crimes.” So I’m at the art where the sheriff disappears and the black Peregrino shows up for the millionth time, and I’m all perplexed again even though I’ve already read it, and then I get a phone call from non-boss.  Telling me to come in tomorrow.  Um.  I’m on a train.  Why would I do that? So I spend the next two to three hours trading phone calls, getting angrier and angrier, and then eating my sandwich, before finally turning around after being told in no way, shape, or form would I be allowed in the office today.  But I’m expected at 9:00am tomorrow.  No excuses. So the real question now is, how do I tell them to go fuck themselves the hardest?

So non-boss called me on Tuesday to tell me not to come in Wednesday, because big boss and sub-boss had extended their trips.  I knew this was bullshit, and was confirmed when fellow lemmings informed me that they had spent Wednesday calling people in individually to let them know what a bad man I was, and that Thursday, today, would be my last day.  Hey, I’m cool with this, because I don’t want to go in anymore, I can get my new iPhone nice and early on Friday, and I can file for unemployment, not in seriousness, but in sheer pain-in-the-assness.

So I’ve got something of a cold, so I sleep in a bit, because who cares what time I come in on my last day?  I’m on the train, give a call to non-boss to let her know I’ll be an hour or so late.  No big deal.  Back to 2666 and “The Part About the Crimes.”

So I’m at the art where the sheriff disappears and the black Peregrino shows up for the millionth time, and I’m all perplexed again even though I’ve already read it, and then I get a phone call from non-boss.  Telling me to come in tomorrow.  Um.  I’m on a train.  Why would I do that?

So I spend the next two to three hours trading phone calls, getting angrier and angrier, and then eating my sandwich, before finally turning around after being told in no way, shape, or form would I be allowed in the office today.  But I’m expected at 9:00am tomorrow.  No excuses.

So the real question now is, how do I tell them to go fuck themselves the hardest?

My stay-cation has been extended through Wednesday. Time to go to the Mets game!

My stay-cation has been extended through Wednesday.

Time to go to the Mets game!

Monday is sun day

See what I did there?

The one check-in for the day, for some “I’m Turning Down a Job Right Now” action, as Cambridge gets back to me reversing the decision of a few weeks ago.

Sorry, guys.  Too little, too late.

I was asked not to come into work on Monday or Tuesday. Four-day weekend. Epic. Win.

I was asked not to come into work on Monday or Tuesday.

Four-day weekend.

Epic. Win.

“Signing this document means you agree to not remove any documents, files, or intellectual property without our express written consent.”
Good thing I took everything I needed before I signed that document!

Subtle Qualities of Hell

Mom made me a ham and swiss sandwich but used mustard instead of mayo.

Yes, I referenced Nixon when big boss’s response to my pithy resignation letter was “AND YOU CALL YOURSELF A WRITER?”

Yes, I referenced Nixon when big boss’s response to my pithy resignation letter was “AND YOU CALL YOURSELF A WRITER?”

A Fail? A Matter of Perspectives.

Good morning, Internet.  It is 10:00am.  And I am still here…I was not asked to leave, and there was no spontaneous internal human combustion.  One could say that is a win, as I get two weeks of money without worry.  One could also say it’s a fail, because I am still in my own personal Conradian heart of darkness.

It’s just me, non-boss, and two interns.  There’s a couple other interns at Sotheby’s watching the Frank Gehry Emeco chaise lounge catastrophe sell for more than my current salary.  There’s a sub-boss tending to the swine flu of his children.  And there’s a couple lemmings in Chicago who will not bring me back a churro or a pierogi.

And big boss?  She must’ve set her alarm extra early to do her full mind, body, spirit cleanse of venom, yeast, and the evil that is me leaving them and breaking agreements and shattering the space-time continuum to allow a Doom-style rift in the very fabric of the universe that has opened a portal to hell (or Diablo, for the RPG nerds).  Because she called me this morning asking for a rundown of all the things left to do that need writing.  She then demanded that I have them “in a good place” by the end of the day.

What does it all mean?  Why the rush?  Is this an attempt at punishment without power?  Is she trying to rush me out the door?  Will I ever even begin to care?

I did not bring an umbrella to work, but I am wearing a shirt with umbrellas on it.  I thought you should know that.

This video is relevant because big boss complimented me on my poker face.