Darling, it's been too long.

Well. I'm sleepy. So there's that. I should probably start by telling you that.

But I'll tell you the best news. I quit my awful job.

Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssss I did.

I gave my notice on Tuesday. They asked me to "give it another week" before I made a final decision. I said I would, but I mostly knew that my decision wouldn't be changing. I'll tell them on Monday that Friday is still my last day. (I would've told them earlier, but they've all been out since Wednesday afternoon for the Jewish holiday.)

The events leading up to my quitting will remain some of the most memorable in my professional life's history. Basically:

The crazy woman flipped OUT at me, completely unprovoked, when she couldn't successfully connect our boss, who was in Boston at the time, to a conference call. While she was throwing her temper tantrum (she threw shit, far and hard, across the room), stomping around, slamming doors, I figured out the conference call so that nobody got their butts ripped off by the boss man. This infuriated her. She told me I always pretend like I don't know how to do something and then wait til the last minute to save the day so that I can come out looking like the hero. Among other hilariousawful shit. So, based on her fury over this scenario, she then proceeded to enact what I like to call the Get Someone Fired Show for the next 3 days. I'm not kidding. I'm not exaggerating. You wish I was. I wish I was. I'm not.

The Get Someone Fired Show is a show I've witnessed several times before, but I've never been the 'someone.' Boy oh boy was I the someone this time. I won't regale you with all the unpleasant details – it was uuugly. But I will tell you my favorite favorite part:

After she spent two solid days performing the Show, slamming the doors to various conference rooms to make phone calls to or have meetings with various coworkers to tell them how awful I am (and I know because I CAN HEAR YOU EVEN IF THE DOOR IS CLOSED EVEN IF I'M NOT TRYING), whispering to anyone and everyone while gesturing in my direction, she finally got our boss on the phone, who was still in Boston, to tell him to fire me. Now, our boss likes me. And I should probably add that I'm a stellar employee at this place. I am here exactly on time every day, I work hard, I am always polite and pleasant and helpful. So she couldn't convince him that I had done anything wrong, let alone anything job-termination-worthy (probably because he's not a complete idiot). And it was frustrating her more and more by the second, enraging her really. She was yelling and screaming shit about how I "never do any work" (which I hear her yell while I'm sitting at my desk covered in work) and a whole ridiculous host of other accusations that couldn't be further based in the opposite-of-reality. But then the kicker, the real kicker. This sixty something mentally unwell mean horrible lady actually said to the multi-million dollar, no-nonsense President who doesn't give a fuck about anything but making money for his huge construction company, "…and if you think this is about me being jealous of her because she's young, it's NOT! I could get fifty fucking men faster than she could!"

As if the Universe weren't already marvelous enough, it sent me a great signal later that week in the form of a phone call from an old job that I loved and only left because I'd been there a year and I needed more money. They need me to come back indefinitely until I want to move on to some place else. And they will pay me the same thing I'm making now. And I don't have to be at work until 10am every day.

Sold.