Goodbye forever, see you tomorrow.

“I would prefer not to.”

— Bartleby the Scrivener, on coping with law firm life.

“If this is Freedom, what’s captivity?”

— Tamara at age 13, on coping with her first period.

Yesterday, I attempted to quit That Job.  It took three years, 6000 billed hours, 3% muscle mass, and 1.25 diopters of eyesight to get to where I am today.  I have seen the sun rise from my office more times than I can count on my hands.  I once lost so much weight that my body stopped producing saliva — for six months.  Now I take special vitamins to keep my hair from falling out.  More than once, I have left the house wearing my shirt backwards because I was too preoccupied to notice.

Despite this and more, I awoke on Quitting Day feeling oddly bereft.  My heart misgave me so badly that I got off the bus ten blocks early and walked the rest of the way up.  I solicited pep talks from friends, received text messages from others, and talked on the phone to C for 45 minutes.  I invited my secretary out to lunch and we each downed a glass of Prosecco.  We got back and I hemmed and hawed, brushed my teeth, came up with a script, and finally, marched down five flights of stairs with my pulse in my ears.  I walked right up to the corner office where the head of my department sits.  His office was dark.

Then I turned the corner and made for the office of the senior-most partner in my group.  His office was also dark.

In typical law firm fashion, the minute you look for a partner (after years of dodging them at all costs), you can’t find one.  I had no one to quit to.

I quit today instead.

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One Response to Goodbye forever, see you tomorrow.

  1. WP-Z says:

    Ahhhhhh, love the ending. Was reading with baited breath, and then the thing was done. Eventually. Toasts to you and your new horizons from here!

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