Captain's Log #33 - The Fine Art of Quitting

After lunch Friday, I was called into my supervisor’s office, again, given another 2 page letter about how unprofessional and insubordinate I’ve been, and given 2 Administrative Directives to read, sign and return by the end of the day. Since I’ve not completed my 12-month probation period she could fire me at any time without cause, maybe it’s better for them if I quit. What really upset me was knowing that BOTH of my two co-workers were ratting on me, I thought I could trust one. I went back to my desk and my entire body was roiling, not just my stomach but arms, legs, everything. This might be the fight or flight response. The short story is I calmly told my two co-workers, in the presence of two accounting personnel that share the office, that obviously you both don’t like me and rat on me all the time, I can’t stay here, which is too bad because I like the work and you’ve invested a lot of time and energy in training me. I’m sorry to leave you with all this work on my desk (well, not too sorry.) The sweet Punjabi accountant suggested that I ask for the day off, think it over on the weekend and then make a decision. I told her that was excellent advice, thank you, but I have to go. I also said I’ve grown to like her and the other guy in accounting. They seemed genuinely sad to see me go. I picked up my pretty Peace Lily plant in its fire-engine-red pot and, cradled it in one arm, picked up my other stuff and left. I went to my supervisor’s office, she wasn’t there, and dropped my keys on her desk and was intercepted down the hall and told there is a two page sign-out process to complete, which I did, feeling better and better as I disengaged myself from the place. At the bottom of the form was the question, why are you resigning, my response: “A ridged supervisor with no Emotional Intelligence and co-workers who easily took offense at things I said and tattled to the supervisor.” I’ve written a letter to the Executive Director of the facility spelling out my reasons for leaving. It’s extremely unlikely I’ll be hired there again, and I have an official document in my file, that will remain for a year, written by my supervisor but I’m not going down without a reasoned, last word in my defense.

I came home, did all the dishes, washed the floor and did my laundry. I felt liberated! I have a job interview Wednesday at the Vet’s Home, Office Technician in Procurement. I won’t miss the radio station they had on all the time that played and replayed the same songs day after day: The BJs, Dolly Parton, etc. they even played “All About the Bass” multiple times, I almost jumped up and began dancing down the aisle! I learned how to use my Blue Tooth ear buds and was about to run out of data on my cell phone service listening to the classical music that kept me sane.

After the chores I went online to research answers to the job interview question, why did you leave your last position? I’ll need to practice my response before Wednesday. Keep it short, honest and end with a positive. I can do that.

In other news, yesterday I went to a little club in Sonoma to listen to my partner Kevin, who plays the drum set, play with seasoned, professional musicians, the Acrosonics, who specialize in jump-jive/swing. Wow! Jaw-dropping! Drums, standup bass, electric piano, saxophone and occasionally one or two singers and trombone. The piano players fingers were moving so fast they were a blur. With some songs they’d start quiet and build to a crescendo; I danced facing a blast of great sound, the musicians pouring their souls out. I’ll admit my ears did ring a little afterwards, I know this is not good but the experience was cathartic. There were some good dancers, too. It’s wonderful to see men who have taken the time to learn how to dance well. They put on quite the floorshow. At one point I thought the roof would jump up off of the walls; they rocked that place! The male singer, “Pops,” must be pushing 90 years old; he’s been doing this for decades. He has a gravelly voice and has a lot of fun singing songs with a sexual intent. The band members, and regulars, worry that every day could be his last, but we enjoy him while he’s here.

The Western Bluebirds are back at their nest box in the front yard but haven’t discovered the Meal Worm food station, which is to be, at least, emergency rations. Daily I listen for the little peeps of chicks. The fog has moved back to the coast and temperatures are mild. Present perfect J

Let me know what’s going on with you.

Many blessings,

Karla, mom & k.j.

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