Breaking Up: Work Edition

As a writer, I felt like a total hack plagiarizing my letter of resignation from about.com. Granted, I replaced the County Library System with my own place of employment, and I tweaked it so as not to sound as airheaded as Dr. Tammy Powley ("I consider just about everyone I have met here to be friends of mine now," really? Just about? So there are people you don't consider a friend? Is it the person you're handing the letter to? And what's with the superfluous "now"? You have a PhD and you're seriously using that sentence?) Most people I know take a delicious pride in their resignation letters, carefully inserting such phrases as "previously unattainable opportunity" and "aptly rewarding compensation," and then deliver the letter with a broad smile and jazz hands. However, I was scared. I like the people and the commute and I'm safe here. Changing jobs is risky, so I wanted my letter to remain neutral to possibly receive a counter offer.

Instead of a counter offer, I got "You don't have to come talk to me about this," and "if you do stay, I'll know you're looking for another job," and finally, "When you put your two weeks in, that's it. You can't take it back and you'll be gone even if you change your mind." I sat in my boss's office dumbstruck. She didn't give me one word of encouragement whether I should stay or go. She told me to take the weekend to think about it and I walked out of her office with my resignation letter still in my hand.

I walked straight into my co-worker Dan's office and pointed to my boss's direction with tears rolling down my cheeks. I told him how I was threatened . "I'm sorry I'm crying," I said. "I'm just so frustrated. I didn't even quit yet!"

"You were caught off guard," he justified. "It would have tripped anyone up. I certainly didn't see her reacting like that."

I checked the clock. 4:45 p.m. "When are you leaving today?" I sniffed.

"Right now. Let's go." He stood up from his desk and we both walked out of the office 45 minutes early. On my way out, I passive-aggressively shoved my plagiarized resignation letter in the CFO's mailbox. We went to a bar and ordered 24 oz. cans of Miller Lite, the happy hour special. I sat at the table, tears still streaming. I was so hurt and embarrassed that I put in 2-1/2 years at a company that didn't give a damn about me. My stomach was in knots over my quitting, because I felt like I was screwing the company and leaving them without an editor and web guru. I cut my summer vacation short so I could give them more of my two weeks notice, when the July 4th week had been my scheduled vacation for months. And they didn't care. I never felt so small in my entire life.

I was assured that I am winning in the long run. That I'm getting this great new job, writing print advertisements for a major global company. This job will open so many new opportunities for me, not to mention my Big Fat Raise. I found out about my current loyalties sooner rather than later, and it all just proves that I made the right decision.

But I still regret not going in there with jazz hands.