Guest Post-Hot Mess Memoir-How I Plan to Quit my Job

 

We all have that quitting-the-job fantasy, especially on those bitter days when your job sucks so bad, you’d rather run across a desert of glass shards than work another hour, take another phone call, or listen to your boss bark another order at you. Hot Mess, as she likes to be called over at Hot Mess Memoir already has her fantasy planned when she one day call it quits. Take a gander at this guest post about how she plans to quit her job one day.

How I Plan to Quit My Job

Thanks to my current job, over the past year, my blood pressure has increased to the point that it is now at a dangerous level. Sadly, I filled a prescription recently for a high blood pressure medicine. I didn’t want to fill it yet, but my family implored me not to do so, then spouted stories of how they ended up in the ER and blah, blah blah. At 39, I did not see this coming in any way, shape or form.  In addition, because my boss has proved over the course of 11 months she has the leadership skills of a Chihuahua, all I can do is hope that I can get out of there.

Let me expand on this point for a moment. I have not had this sort of anxiety since I was 9, attending Catholic school where the nun would mentally abuse me and several other “weak” children calling us names over and over again. I’m sure she has found a comfy place in hell. Ironic, yes?

So today I got a call from an angel (recruiter), who couldn’t understand why no one had called me yet (Right? I know!). I had met with her last week and she let me know of a position that has become available. I would shovel snail turds for $4.63 an hour at this point, just to get out of my current situation.

 

The Parade

About 8 months ago I began to laugh for no apparent reason. My youngest looked at me as if I had just sneezed a booger on his head. This is a common occurrence for me because you see absolutely nothing to laugh about. I however have a complete scene occurring in my head. Tonight, I will share that scene with you.

Basically, I want to organize a parade for my quitting. I want to offer anyone and everyone the opportunity to enter a float into my “I Quit This B**h” parade. That is the theme. My hope is that all entries will throw lots of candy to children on the parade route I plan on making during my 2 week notice.

I even hope for all the churches trying to increase attendance by marching in the parade and offering things like bottled water, blizzards and baby bunnies; just to get you to join. I always look forward to the church folk as they ALWAYS have the best loot to pass out. I’m not above throwing my 7 year old in their path and yelling “I want a king size Kit Kat! Make-it-happen!”

I promised the job of grand marshal to my husband. I’m super sorry if you were considering it but I do have to give it to those who are near and dear. I did stipulate that he MUST twirl a baton. I need to get my money’s worth and this will be a deal breaker should he not comply.

I am really hoping for Boy Scout floats. Why? They seem to ALWAYS throw candy to anyone and everyone. Seeing that we will be in the ghetto for part of the time, this will prove effective as many bums will be able to eat lunch that day. Sure, it will be 4 to 5 tootsie rolls, Hubba Bubba or a combo of both but beggars can’t be choosers.

I want to be on the last float. I want to have on a red (don’t know why, it has to be red, it just does) tap dance/recital costume. My hair needs to be bigger than Texas and I need to be wearing white boots. Just a cliché, horrible, parade queen, debutante, whatever you want to call it.

Once my float is roughly 15’ past the horse that proudly hangs 20’ in the air in front of the store, you will hear unassuming fireworks pop. Simultaneously, a white banner will then unravel on the side of my float, facing my former employer. The white banner will say “I QUIT THIS B***H!” While this is all occurring, I will be performing a tap dance I never learned in dance school. I am debating if be using a baton myself. Too much?

20 seconds later (and I expect absolutely no fan fair, and that is ok) the inertia of my float will make me jerk slightly away from the pull. I will sit down on a bundle of hay in my red leotard grinning smugly back at the place that was my hell for the past 12 months.

Boom Roasted! And ARRRRGGGGHHH

So, if you were given your fantasy quitting scenario what would yours be? Reply in the comments.

 

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29 thoughts on “Guest Post-Hot Mess Memoir-How I Plan to Quit my Job

  1. I think you should it. Make a great blog. My fantasy was to come out with a magnificent speech about exactly how the whole thing could be loads better and just as they’re about to offer you a consultancy post tell them where they can stick it.

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  2. I’m currently stuck in a position wherein I’m supposed to answer to a mini Skipper doll with a gut-clenching donkey bray of a laugh and no clue whatsoever. If I hear the term “Team” one more time I’m going to fill the office with vomit. There is no “Team” here; more like a Twenty-something BFF “Clique”, lead by a diminutive over-made-up wax figure with the communication and people management skills of a vibrator. It’d be more productive around here if we were lead by a department store mannequin. Ugghh, gotta get ready for work…

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  3. I will vizzit hot mess rite after this. I guess I “quit” but every-1 assoomd I “wre-tired” a month ago. I had planned to be ON the internet and interacting (thassa lame werd, eh? espechullee as there ain’t any “real” (person-2-person) inter-anything) with everyone and more than the yoozYooUhl every-1 but … NO! spousie-poo put me to werk pulling weeds and rolling rocks around and building stuff and this afternoon is the 2nd afternoon I’ve axially been able to stay inside and sulk (AND DRINK BEER) and whatever it wuzz I yoosta do at werk. I expect to be a PRIME bitterling soon, of course. and I hope i’ll be able to convey the trauma of marginally entertaining uselessness at my blog beginning any month now …

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  4. I quit my job 8 months ago. I’m half way to the official retirement age so I guess I am semi-retired. If I had kids or really wanted to have kids I would have stayed but I don’t so my life is mine to risk. It’s too bad sort of, because my job wasn’t a bad gig but they wouldn’t budge on that rigid schedule of 9-5, Monday to Friday for the next 30 years that hasn’t changed since Henry Ford implemented it 90 years ago. Looks like I’m off for summer holidays for the first time in a while.Yipee!

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    • And can we just talk about this 9 to 5 thing for a moment and some people’s lack of flexibility on it? When you have kids, sometimes you just suck it up and deal with it….even though it sucks, you know?!?!

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      • I could talk about it forever. The reason why they changed it to a 5 day work week from a 6 day was because they figured people didn’t have enough time and energy to buy stuff(contribute to the economy). I guess there hasn’t been a good enough reason to budge on it since besides it would make people happier. Yeah it does suck.

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  5. Handing my boss my notice was one of the best days of my life… the look on her face!!! “What are we going to do when you leave?” she wanted to know. And I was like, “I don’t know and I don’t care. That would be your problem. I’m sure you’ll manage.” I planned my big exit for the day after Thanksgiving, when everyone would be taking vacation to go shopping (Black Friday). Turned in my ID, walked out with one box, no fanfare, no party, very low-key. Got in my car, breathed a sigh of relief, drove away, and have never looked back. Having a parade and riding on a float is a nice fantasy, but I wouldn’t have wanted to rub it in the faces of the coworkers who had made my life bearable. I’m not cruel. 🙂

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  6. First, I hope Hot Mess’s husband will also be wearing sequins to go along with his baton. I think that should really be a deal breaker. Second, I will post online reviews on all the customers who make my life a living hell while inviting the customers I DO like to enter a float in Hot Mess’s parade. I will also take any leftover jugs of paint and “decorate” the nasty customers’ houses and cars. I will take leftover canvases and play frisbee with them…breaking nasty customers’ windows. I will tell each and every one of them how stupid and demanding and unreasonable they are, and then I will force feed them red wine that has turned to vinegar, make them clean the bathroom they’ve sullied, and make them watch a single Bob Ross video on repeat for 24 hours while they repeat, “happy little accidents, happy little accidents, happy little accidents.” Clearly, I haven’t thought about this day at all.

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  7. Well, I am at the other end of the telescope! I and 63 (in a few days) and I have the delight (English humor – American spelling..) of Lou Gehrig’s Disease. This finally brought me down from work in May 2010. I never imagined I could ‘do nothing’. That I would just die without work. I haven’t. I fill my days with music, writing, dumb ass TV and the countryside. I ‘retired’ in a totally unplanned manner. I could, and should have done it years earlier. Not working is amazing. You have your time back. It is a fantasy!

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  8. Maybe a heavy metal rendition of Take This Job And Shove It as performed by my band of wild hooligans…or my co workers. Sadly, (or not so sadly) I’m actually happy where I work and I like my boss but I know a few ex-bosses who would fit the bill quite nicely.

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  9. I’m retiring in 6 months and devoting all that time to writing. Nagging my sister into editing, and getting my books ready for publication is my fantasy job.

    Do you think that every person over 30 has had at least one boss from hell? The worst job was answering phones for Hickory Farms and putting names into a database so that they could send catalogues out to people. I was a temporary hire during the Christmas season. If you didn’t keep up the quota, you got dinged. If you talked on the phone too long, the boss came over and stared at you — all he was missing was the whip.

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  10. I retired after 25 years without fanfare of any sort, no party, no cake, no tears, no goodbyes, no nothing. I took my personal stuff home a little at a time during my last week, and on my last day I just walked out the door without anything but my purse, free at last.

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