  Sucktastic conversation with the Queen Bee about my (self-de)termination of employment. Got lots more hours at the library, though. And many sympathy calls. "Sorry your job sucked and you had to quit"- new greeting card category. Perhaps I will start a new line in all this newly acquired FREE TIME. I know I should probably be worried about how I'm going to make my rent, etc., but the sun is out this week and the pool is open and I can't seem to make myself care about anything else for a while.
Working retail means that you are essentially everyone's bitch. You have to serve the public. The public is a lot of people. And your job description is to serve all of them . I thought doing bookkeeping downtown would save me from this universal bitch-dom. As it turned out I was still everyone's bitch.
Only I was my co-workers' bitch instead of the public's and I didn't have any fellow bitches to ease my burden. I was the only bitch on the island. I lost myself for a while there. I was like the deer that accidentally jumps a fence and winds up on the field of a major sporting event. No more sign of the graceful majestic woodland crature, I just kept darting around, slamming into things because I couldn't identify them or reconcile them with my knowledge base, reacting instead of acting, twisting and bucking. I wasn't myself.
Then I made the decision to quit and all at once, The Bitch was back. When you're the low drone on the totem pole, a universal bitch, you don't weild much power. No responsibility, either, so that's usually the pay off. But no power. The one power you have, the one way in which you can totally lord it over your employers is the knowledge you have of when you are going to quit. Barring those bad sitcom scenes that go something like, "You can't fire me I quit!
" "You can't quit, you're fired! " You can decide at any time, hey, I'm done here, and there is nothing they can do to stop you from leaving. And weilding this sword is wonderous joy-inducing. I'm positively drunk with sword-weilding, job-quitting power. No one can touch me. I am the QUITTER.
And they never saw it coming. Poor bastards. It's like if that deer, the one on the baseball field that you were all laughing at on "America's Most Humiliating Home Videos" all of a sudden kicked a famous athlete in the groin, jumped back over the fence and then hotwired somebody's jeep and drove off. To Mexico. To be a movie star. Open PS to Queen Bee: Here.
You can have your stupid bus pass back. Sheesh. "What am I going to do? I'm good for exactly two things. International superstardom or helping a vampire with a soul to rid the world of evil. It makes for a short, but colorful, resume.
" --Cordelia (Charisma Carpenter) Angel (season one) 
